IRREVERSIBLE
by Samsara Dallire
Summary: Revenge is a natural emotion one experiences after being victimized, however for Nick Stokes the consequences of revenge are irreversible. RATED M FOR VIOLENCE,STRONG LANGUAGE AND ADULT CONTENT.
1. Chapter 1

_**IRREVERSIBLE**_

**DISCLAIMER:** CSI and Nick Stokes are the products of CBS and its affiliates. I  
do not own them, but I thank them dearly for their use.

OC/AU Season: Beyond Season 8

**RATING:** M FOR ADULT SITUATIONS AND EXTREME VIOLENCE

**A/N: **This subject has been covered in plenty of slash stories, but I'm  
taking it (which will become obvious as you read on) and putting a different  
spin on it. One that will show the trauma that comes with such an ordeal and  
the feelings that lead towards revenge.

The problem with revenge, as Nick will find out, is that it is  
irreversible.

**CHAPTER ONE**

_"If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I  
bear him."  
Author: William Shakespeare  
Source: The Merchant of Venice (Shylock at I, ii)_

**Definition of Irreversible: Incapable of being reversed; "irreversible  
momentum towards revolution"  
Online Dictionary**

It was your typical, dank rural bar, complete with shady characters, cheap  
beer and a jukebox with Johnny Cash singing 'God's Gonna Cut You Down'. Blonde and brunette waitresses wearing short shorts and white crop tops stood aside nervously, their knee-high sports socks adorned knees, twirling their perfectly coiffed hair nervously, looking at each other nervously, holding their trays to their chests.

And it came complete with a smaller than usual crowd of shady characters, who all vacated their various homes and trailers to congregate the tavern, watch ESPN or listen to the same old country tunes again.

What was not typical was the scene that was taking place with the dark-haired, dark-eyed outsider from Vegas, slamming the head of its newest resident into the table, blood flying everywhere along with pieces of compressed wood.

The burly bartender with blue eyes, bald head, tattoo of a naked woman on his left bicep and goatee had already dialled 911, but could do nothing about the scene as far as the crowd was concerned. The Vegas outsider was in the right and the guy getting his brains bashed in was in the wrong. They knew that the guy was a bad apple the day he had moved into their town, but until the recent turn of events, nothing could be done about it.

While most of the patrons stood by and did nothing, others cheered for the guy claiming to be Nick Stokes, CSI from Vegas. The bashed up man was John McVeigh, recent parolee who had moved into the trailer park and now connected to the disappearance of a little girl.

The connection between Stokes and McVeigh was unknown, but it had to be something pretty nasty for the dark-haired man, with the southern accent and square chin, whose face was intense as a panther readying for the kill. His brown eyes blazed with such a fury that the patrons dared not to involve themselves, as the risk of being on the receiving end would bring them wrath.

Nevertheless, the bartender didn't want to be held liable in case someone decided to sue his ass for personal damages, so he reluctantly made the call to the police and hoped things would die down before then.

THWACK!

THWACK!

"Where is she!?" He roared in a guttural voice.

With the help of his friend, Las Vegas CSI, Nick yanked the dirty bastard up, by his hair, almost to his level. Blood poured down his face from the wounds he had been inflicted when the CSI had slammed him into the compressed wood table, which was cracked from the impact of the assault. The bastard was twice Nick's size and girth, his long hair, that formed from a hideous bald spot, hung limply around his shoulders, his teeth were yellowed with cigarette smoke.

But he smiled through the blood from loosened teeth, turned his head towards Nick and simply spit it into his assailant's face.

That was when any rational from Nick just vanished for good and, with the help of his clean-cut soldier friend, who twisted the arms of the jerk around his back, he tore into the man with punches, kicks, head butts, every type of martial arts and football training balled into one, making the bar patrons wonder if the man on the receiving end was going to survive the wiry Texan's unique form of fighting.

And Nick's Glock rested in its holster, the weight teasing the enraged man.

Although the thought raced through his mind, almost screamed at him to do it, to pull it out, pull the trigger and blow his brains, the trajectory of which Catherine Willows, his supervisor at the crime lab, had never seen and would be impressed and he could almost hear her husky voice speaking of the décor blood splatter lined against the wall. But that last vestige of sanity screamed even louder that as much as McVeigh deserved it, he was not worth it.

McVeigh's face was bloodied beyond recognition: it poured from his nose and from his mouth. Nick stood in his boxer stance, fists bloodied, breathing heavily and then decided to take one good kick at the man's genitals for good measure, something he'd wanted to do since it had happened.

The man cried out in agony as Nick leaned into him and whispered with an evil smile and a vengeful gleam in his eyes, "How's that for you, Cowboy?"

Only McVeigh knew the meaning of that.

The Texan's eyes were black, nostrils flared, his square chin clenched as he understood, for the first time in his life, what drove people to commit murder. When rage is in full mode, the line that most of the universe does not cross out of sheer respect for humanity becomes invisible.

At this point, Nick Stokes was ready; not just ready to cross the line, but  
eradicate it!

The door clanged and footsteps filled the room as the CSI grabbed the guy by the back of his collar and was about to resume with the head bashing. McVeigh was being held up by Nick's new friend, who was exhausted, but held firm.

"NICK!" A familiar voice commanded.

Nick whipped around, breathing heavily. Sweat drenched his long sleeved grey shirt and ran like Niagara Falls down his face, making his skin gleam in the light, and his eyes widened in shock and horror.

The bar became deadly silent, save for Johnny's Cash singing about God cutting you down. McVeigh was still being held by the Texan's friend's arms, the man looking alarmed at the sight of the visitors.

Nick's Lab supervisors, Gil Grissom and Catherine Willows, stood there along with the local sheriff and other local officers who rushed over and grabbed McVeigh away from the man holding him. Out from behind Catherine and Grissom, his buddy and colleague Warrick Brown walked determinedly over, his sleep-deprived blue eyes coated in red, and grabbed  
Nick by the back of his collar and frog-marched him out of the bar as the officers walked over to the beaten man, notifying their local dispatch that an ambulance was needed.

"Let me go, you fucking asshole!" Nick screamed, as he squirmed like a cat held by the scruff, trying to get out of Warrick's vice-like grip, to race back into that damn bar and finish what he had started. Now that the rage had been released, there wasn't anything or anyone that could stop him and fuck whatever consequence came of it. His temples thumped with adrenaline, his lungs heaved and Goddamit, no friend was going to stop him, as Nick tried to lay into Warrick, screaming obscenities.

Undeterred by Nick's squalling cat behaviour, Warrick simply whipped him around and slammed him into his truck, hands scuffed around the collar of the Texan's t-shirt, which looked like it could use a washing machine.

Nick momentarily saw stars from being slammed against the truck, and rather than waiting for them to clear, he grabbed Warrick's hands and began to pull at them as he continued to shout at the taller, black man to release him, eventually attempting to knee him in the gonads.

Warrick held firm as he was taller and stronger then his wiry buddy "No! No! NO! Not like this. This is not how we do things, Nicky!" Warrick's face was in anger and fear for Nick or this goddamn Sweeney Todd of a man that appeared before him.

"In this case, we do!" Nick growled with his nostrils flared. His pupils were dilated; face bloodied from the asshole's broken teeth.

Warrick didn't recognize in this guy, his friend Nick Stokes, the voice of calm and reason in his own times of recklessness. Then again, that Nick was somehow taken from them a long time ago and replaced by a madman.

Catherine walked over, calmly although her nerves too were stretched from recent revelations, "Nick! Yes, in fact this is not your case. This was never your case."

"Oh yeah it is." Nick said.

Catherine could see the toll stress had taken on Nick. Sickness resulting from a horrid event had weakened him and he seemed thinner, gaunt almost. His square chin held a determination beyond words. He was going to finish this whether anyone liked it or not. Everyone, as far as she was concerned, was capable of murder as rage can blur that line between morality and immorality.

The entomologist stood closer to Nick and showed him a legal form that he'd seen in court rooms, and procedures in other cases, never relating to him. He grabbed it and read it.

"It's a request for pseudonym for victims of assault." Catherine explained, without really having to.

A tense pause ensued while Nick stared at the form and then looked at Grissom and  
Warrick, suspiciously.

"Do you know why I brought this to you, Nick?" Catherine asked solemnly, looking straight into her subordinate brown eyes.

The Texan scrunched his face up, shaking his head in defiance, "No!"

"We know why you're here Nick." Catherine told him, stepping closer in order to keep the conversation as quiet as possible.

Nick's eyes widened with disbelief mired in confusion. Catherine nodded and looked straight at Nick, unwavering, "We know what happened to you."

The boxer-like stance that beheld the Texan weakened. He pushed Warrick away. "Nothing happened." He snarled at his coworkers, feeling like a cornered dog.

"The evidence clearly shows that it did, Nick." Catherine had her voice lowered to a near whisper, "We found evidence. Nick. We found your clothes, the DNA test you ran..."

"No!" Nick shook his head, his voice thickening.

"We found the cloth..." Catherine said, her hands wringing, her face contorted in pain as she revealed to Nick that they knew his awful truth.

"No!!" The Texan cried out, placing his hands on his ears.

"And the extension cord in the cell of the one of them." Catherine said, trying to level with him.

Folding his arms, Nick bent over slightly, grimacing as if he'd been socked in the solar plexus.

"Nick, man… it's going to be okay!" Warrick said, "Really man! It's okay. It wasn't your fault."

"No, it wasn't Nick." Catherine touched Nick's shoulder, "You were in a no win situation."

Clamping his hands back over his ears, Nick turned and buried himself in Warrick's truck before spinning around. "Just shut the fuck up, both of you! Take that damn form and shove it, Catherine. Get rid of the evidence, get rid of everything, Grissom, do it!"

"I can't Nick, there's evidence that a crime took place." Grissom answered, remaining stoic despite the agony of watching his subordinate crumple with the revelation.

"No, just get rid of it; just make it go away okay? It never happened!"

"Nick, calm down!"

Nick whirled around and started charging for the bar where an EMT was walking in.

"I came here to finish him, now let me do it! I'll get lawyers who will defend me. I know my way around the system, man!" Nick was mad with a rage the likes none of them had seen, ever.

Warrick and Grissom grabbed him on either side imploring for him to stop.

"We need him to find her, Nick!" Catherine told him, her voice cracking as she watched Nick's tough demeanour buckle.

"He's not talking!" Nick pleaded, his voice choking up.

"Doesn't matter, we need him anyhow." Warrick explained.

Nick turned around and started for his Tahoe, as Warrick ran after him. "You aren't going anywhere buddy." He said, standing in front of the car.

"Warrick's right Nick, you're not running away this time."

"I…….I.." Nick simply stood there, "I don't know… what… to do anymore.." He looked at his coworkers feeling shame and embarrassment and humiliation because they knew. They knew his dirty secret and they'd never, ever look at him the same way again. He'd be a pariah in the lab.

Maybe he should have eaten his gun. Even though that that wasn't the answer, it was far better then having his closest friends know of his violation.

Grissom and the Sheriff walked solemnly over to the scene at that moment.

"There's nothing for you to do other then go back to where you're staying and wait!" Grissom told him, "We're going to finish this for you. Okay?"

"No." Nick pleaded, "I'm not leaving until we find her. I promised her mother I would."

"And you've gotten very far on this one Nick. You found the suspect in both crimes now…let us do the rest."

"No!" Nick exclaimed, "Grissom, remember I'm on leave…I don't have to listen to you right now..."

"Yes, Nick, you do. For everyone's sake. If the D.A. catches that this was the same guy who. Who…"

"Don't you fucking say it!!" Nick pointed a finger in Grissom's face, "Don't you ever, ever fucking say it again Grissom...or you'll meet the end of my fist…you understand.."

Grissom backed off feeling for the first time in his life afraid of Nick. Even though he was the Texan's boss, the younger man was twice as strong as him. However, the entomologist also felt nothing but grief for his subordinate because this wasn't him talking; it was the horror and shame of his recent ordeal that brought him to this raging point.

"Hey man!!" Warrick stepped in between, "Calm down Nick. OK, you're my Bro, you understand Nick. You still the same big-chinned Texan that beat me at becoming a Level I by a fluke. Okay, Nick?" implored the tall gangly black man; blue eyes sincere and sympathetic.

Catherine stepped over to him and whispered earnestly, "I know how you feel Nick, believe me more then you can imagine. I know the last thing you want is for us to know."

Calmness seemed to come over Nick and he cleared his throat and said, "I still want to help Grissom."

"No, Nick you can't." Grissom firmly told him.

"But I want to." He hated the whine in his voice.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Stokes, that you have no choice in this matter." A voice spoke.

They all turned to the Town's Sheriff who looked at them solemnly as he approached them with two officers. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take Mr. Stokes as well as Mr. Sargent  
into custody."

Warrick and Catherine groaned as Grissom stepped towards him looking at the man in disbelief. "You gotta be kidding me!" Grissom exclaimed.

"No, I'm not. Mr. McVeigh is requesting to lay charges."

Grissom and Warrick looked back at Nick who seemed to be more accepting of those things. He rolled his tongue around his mouth, placed his hands on his head, and nodded to the Sheriff that he was going quietly with no fuss. The Sheriff motioned for the officer to handcuff Nick, who remained stony faced and avoided the shocked stares of his colleagues.

Warrick looked at Grissom, "Gris..do something."

"I can't. Legally Mr. McVeigh is acting within his rights. Even if he's a suspect, he has rights."

"After what he did to Nick." Warrick whispered angrily.

"A crime of which he has yet to be charged and that's up to Nick." Grissom explained, "We can't do anything for Nick right now, Warrick but just trust me on this okay? We'll get him out of this."

"What about the arrest affecting his career?"

"Leave it with me Warrick!" Grissom explained ready to throttle the taller black man. Truth was, he wasn't sure how to help Nick, but he had a plan.

As the officer finished handcuffing Nick, the Sheriff said to him "You know the drill Mr. Stokes; you have the right to remain silent…"

Grissom said to Nick as he walked by, "Nick, don't say anything. We'll bail you out in the morning okay. Just hang in there."

"We're with you man!" Warrick called.

Nick said nothing as the officer placed a hand on his hand and guided him into the back seat. The doors slammed shut. The Sheriff walked over to Grissom, "I'm sorry Dr. Grissom. I didn't want to do that."

"I understand." Grissom said, although he wanted to say a few different  
words. Right now, they were on another jurisdiction's turf and backs needed to be scratched in order for things to turn out okay.

"I'm sure he'll make bail in the morning. Judge's a decent guy. Knows the family of the missing girl real well."

"We need to speak to her mother."

"I'll take you back to the trailer park again."

Grissom walked with him, "How long' has beens Nick been staying here?"

"Oh, I reckon a few weeks. Been staying with Stephanie's mom and uncle, brother's a real nice guy. Sorry I had to have him taken. He just got back from Baghdad a few months ago. Wife left with him nothing so he's staying with Steph and her mother for a while. Mom's a mature student taking correspondence courses to be a psychotherapist. Nice lady. Soon as she got the loan approved, she was gonna move to Vegas."

"How long's she been missing?"

"Almost 4 hours." Sheriff grimaced.

Warrick asked, "And how long has Mr.McVeigh been living in the park?"

"Shit!, He moved in months ago. I knew he had a record, but didn't seem like anything I needed to be too concerned about." Sheriff shook his head, "We'll have the hospital look after his wounds before bringing him in for questioning."

Grissom and Warrick nodded in unison.

"Do you think we can wake your Judge up to have him sign a search warrant to go through McVeigh's trailer?"

"Sure thing. I can get up now, I can see about getting Stokes and Sargent bailed out within a few hours."

"Sister can afford bail?" Warrick asked.

"I'll take care of it myself. Steph's..my..godchild.." Sheriff smiled sadly, "Didn't want to say anything but yeah. I knew her dad well."

Then he stopped them before he got into the cruiser. "Tell me something Dr.Grissom, what brought Mr. Stokes to this part of the state anyways? What's his deal with McVeigh?"

Grissom pondered the thought and answered with a heavy sigh, "It's a long story."

**_What had brought Nick to a trailer park outside of of Las Vegas?_**

**XXXXxxXXXX**

"I gotta say Greg," Nick said as the Radiohead tune filled the Denali, "I like this album."

"I'll burn one for you if you'd like." Greg said as he bopped his head slightly to the tambourine from the song Reckoner.

"Naw, I'll just download it." Nick answered taking another sip hoping the water will cool down his fever and ease his Mexican jumping bean of a stomach.

"Make sure its legal!" Greg said.

"Of course!" Nick answered sarcastically.

"Radiohead don't like illegal downloads, makes them vewy angry!"

"They make millions of dollars every year Greggo, they can do without my 10 bucks."

"Actually, they'll let you pay if you want!"

"Oh really, even 0!"

"Oh come on man, the guys gotta make some money!"

"Yeah, I gotta keep mine after the last weekend!"

Nick and Greg had been called out by Brass to the High Desert State Prison, over on highway 95 in Indian Springs. He told them he'd join them in a few hours.

"HDSP is the newer jail?" Greg asked as they drove along the highway under a blistering sun that even permeated the air-conditioned Denali.

"Hm," Nick answered hoarsely as he read the file, allowing Greg to drive. He'd been on clock for almost 24 hours and he was feeling it. Unfortunately, Warrick was off with the flu that he claimed that Nick himself had brought in to the Lab after returning from a convention. Thus Nick now found himself being dubbed 'Typhoid Mary' which eventually led to Hodges' favoured choice of 'Ground Zero'.

Nick rubbed the back of his neck, which still ached then grabbed a cold bottle of water from his lunch bag and started twisting the cap before groaning.

"You're sure you're up to this?" Greg asked concerned, "That flu took you down pretty bad and your not one to get sick."

"Yeah I'm alright. I've got some pain killers in my kit, I should be okay." Nick answered hoarsely, smiling at Greg.

"And whatsername…Pamela kept you going too." Greg asked with a sly smile.

Nick chuckled and shook his head, "Yeah, she did."

While in Reno for the Forensics Convention, Nick had run into a local CSI named Pamela, she was about 22, a little young for his taste, but she certainly kept what would of otherwise be a dull ass convention very interesting.

"So I guess, Nick, you were doing a conjugal, Cirque Du Soleil?"

Nick took a swig of water and answered in a thick twang, "Gentlemen don't kiss and tell."

"Aw c'mon." Greg whined.

"Just keep your eye on the road, Greggo!" Nick ordered the Level One.

The two men were quiet for a moment; the silence enabling Nick to let his mind wander back to his hotel room, that they escaped to during lunch or dinner hour for some recreation.

She was athletic like him, her body well defined, muscular which made the bed a marathon, liked to play pool and loved basketball. She loved the Knicks, which caused some playful friction between them.

They talked a few times since his return, but the flu had kept him out of commission although he managed to get an email to her letting her know that he was sick and wouldn't be near a phone anytime soon.

"Oh man!" Nick said rubbing his temples as the pain increased.

"Dude, if you're gonna lurch, and then let me at least pull over so you don't mess up the Denali!" Greg warned.

"I'm not gonna puke man!" Nick snapped and in gulped in some air, "But if it makes you feel better, I'll use this pail here." He reached for the small garbage pail Greg had in the back seat.

"No way," Greg said, "I'll pull over and you can upchuck on the side of the road there. I'm not smelling your barf, we're not that close, Nick."

"Oh really Greg, how close are we?" Nick said flirtatiously, "I mean, I thought our man love had reached a certain level where we were comfortable enough to put up with each other's bodily function. I mean you wouldn't get offended if I let one off in the car would you, cause this flu did something to my stomach and it ain't fully recovered."

"Fuck off!" The younger man snarled shaking his head.

Nick laughed and leaned back into the seat, lowering the reflector and glancing at the file Grissom handed them.

"High Desert was opened in 20, it's about 1,576,0 square feet." He said to steer the conversation away from all things gross.

"Whew!" Greg exclaimed, "That's a lot of inmates."

"Largest major institution of the Nevada Department of Corrections." Nick told him. "Designed to house up to 1,832 inmates."

The prison's utopian style buildings emerged in the hot blazing sun giving Nick and Greg an ominous feeling. The walls appeared to be screaming 'stay back' to them.

Greg swallowed hard at the site of the stern fences with circular barbed wire. "First prison crime scene" He said nervously to Nick who jumped out of the Denali and headed for the back.

"Aww relax!" Nick smiled, "Worst case scenario, a few of the guys might whistle at you."

Greg moaned, "Great!"

"Hey, tough life in there."

"Yeah, I guess."

That's when Nick noticed the number of guards standing outside the prison walls, placards in tow.

"Unsafe Conditions!" One read"Solidarity!" Nick got out of the truck, slid on his shades and puzzled at the sight.

A heavy set man, with grey hair and blackframed glasses walked out nervously. Nick walked over to him."Mr.O'Flynn!"

"Mr. Stokes, good to see you." The man stared nervously at the guards, who stood like bikers readying for a fight, their arms folded straining their brown uniforms. They eyed the CSIs up and down and mumbled amongst each other.

"No one said anything about labour action?" Nick asked the Director.

"Just happened this morning after the call was put in about the murdered guard."

"Isn't this private prison?" Greg asked walking up beside Nick.

"Well, that didn't mean one of them did it."

Nick hesitated then spoke up, "Is it safe enough for us in there?"

"We're on a lockdown Mr. Stokes, all the prisoners are accounted for." Mr. O'Flynn assured him.

"Well, who did the lockdown?" Nick asked, cocking his head curiously, never one to trust bureaucratic promises.

"Our administrative staff."

Nick snorted shaking his head in disbelief at Greg, whose eyes widened nervously, "Makes me feel much better."

"Well none of your own officers would be willing to come down and keep an eye on you guys."

"Not likely." Greg sighed in exasperation not having time for unions and their politics, "No one likes their picket line crossed by a fellow law enforcement official."

"Well these guys aren't really.." Nick started and then trailed off, realizing he could be overheard by the guards and corrections officers were known to have long memories.

The Texan looked at the younger CSI and told him, "Okay let's go."

"You wanna go in there with these guys on strike?" Greg asked not too shocked by Nick's impulsivity as it was the Texan's Achilles heels. "And shouldn't we wait for Brass?"

Nick laughed dismissively, "It's all locked down Greg."

"You sure?" Greg asked, nervously, pissed that his buddy was trying to be a superhero. Had he not learned along time ago the detriment of taking the road of caution?

Nick leaned over and elbowed him, "Just be sure your belt is extra tight Greggo." And with a laugh, the Texan headed into the prison with Greg following behind him. Sure enough, as the Director took them through the halls, a few cat calls were hurled their way.

They cleared security and followed the Director through the halls, but as their footsteps rang in, announcing their presence, both men carefully avoided the stares of the prisoners.

However, they were noticed.

"Hey spikey boy, wanna see how many licks it takes to get to the centre of my lollipop?"

Greg looked over and glanced at a tall, skinny white man with long black hair, tattooed arms, smiling at him with whiter then white teeth.

"Aren't prisons supposed to closed to visitors if there's any kind of labour action?" Greg asked nervously, following Nick.

"Look man, if you're scared just go and I'll take care of it. We're only processing one room." Nick was starting to get inpatient due, in part, to sickness and in part of being tired of Greg holding him back from a potentially wicked crime scene.

"No..I'll stay." Greg said reluctantly.

"Just over here." Mr. O'Flynn said as they headed around a bend and came to an office where the body of Conrad Noire laid.

It was comfortably decorated office. The mahogany desk was lined with pictures of the Director's family as well as some of the jail guards including the victim.

Super Dave knelt on the floor nervously, "Strike started after I got here."

He checked the liver temp, "He's been dead for about three hours, and rigor hasn't set in yet..."

The man appeared to be 52 with thick, black hair with streaks of grey on his temple. A pool of blood had formed around his head, his black eyes opened with a "Why me?" expression. He laid in a fetal position by the desk; a pool blood formed from a wound that had landed smack down in the middle of his skull, cast off decorated the mahogany desk beside him.

The CSI's set their kits on the floor, knelt down and opened them, snapping on latex gloves and rummaging for tools. Nick did a quick survey of the room and took note that the chair the vice appeared to be sitting in, was knocked over, with the leg pulled off, meaning  
there's a chance that it was the murder weapon. Pictures on the wall smashed, the one holding the Director's education in particular looked as if it had been yanked off the wall and smashed to bits.

The trajectory of blood was remarkable. It was as if the vic's head had exploded and the desk was like a canvass: a Picasso like painting of reds and sprays.

Greg began to walk around taking note of the same things and jotting it down on a note pad. Nick turned his attention to the vic and asked, "Preliminary COD, Super Dave?"

The Coroner's Assistant shrugged, "At first glance, blunt force trauma, but we'll be able to tell more when we get him on the slab."

There were some wooden fragments in the wound. Nick pulled some tweezers from his kit and carefully picked them out . He made a mental note to test the wood against the wood of the chair lying next to him.

Nick walked around the office, taking note of things. College diplomas on the wall, awards, pictures with high-powered friends and so forth: typical of someone in the Director's position. The shelf held a collection of books and knick-knacks, a spoon collection?

Nick smirked and turned around to check the DB again. Then he noticed that the guard still had a book in his hand.

"_In the Grip of Grace_." Nick read aloud, "Max Lucado."

"He's a Christian book writer," The Director explained, "Conrad was a recent convert."

"I know who the writer is." Nick said, hating the fact that someone insinuated he was ignorant of writers, something he dealt with his boss on a regular basis. "My sister is a born-again Christian; she's always telling me to read this guy's books."

Greg leaned over and whispered with a sly smile, "Was she born before or after your burial ordeal?"

"Shut up!" Nick whispered back then added, "After..."

"Conrad Noir was one of our best guards. He knew how to keep these guys in. He was tough, but fair, and converted some of our prisoners." Mr. O'Flynn ran a hand through his white hair, perspiration coating his forehead; his blue eyes still in shock and dismay.

Nick snorted, "Yeah, nice way to get paroled early or avoid the chamber, get close and personal with Jesus!"

"Conrad and I were discussing a promotion when I was called away; when I got back, there he was. I notified the Lead Guard, who's been itching to get this place unionized, and he immediately put out the word and all of them filed out of here. They were nice enough to make sure the prisoners were back in their cells before they did that."

"Are you sure they got all of them?" Greg asked, scanning the collection of books on the shelf.

"Our non-corrections staff did a head count before you guys came."

"How many are there of you?" Nick asked, looking up from the body.

The Director cleared his throat, "Including the cooks, the protective staff and some of our professions...umm...82."

Nick looked at Greg, annoyed with the information, "And how many Correction Officers do you have out on strike?"

"All 265 of them."

"Great!" Nick groaned, exasperated. His nerves were already frail due to sickness.

"Look, we are a state of the art prison with the best technology available to the officers." The Director said defensively.

"Where was Mr. Noire before he came to your office?"

"In the library." Mr. Flynn answered.

He looked up at the Director, "Where's the library?"

"Just down the hall. It's locked though."

"Well, can I just go have a look?" Nick asked, impatiently, now realizing that Greg was right, it was too soon after his flu to be back at work, but here he was and he just wanted to get it out of the way.

"I'd prefer it if we could keep this to the immediate area." Mr. O'Flynn said nervously, "I mean we're on lockdown, but… I'm not comfortable with you searching through the rest of the area."

"Well, you said you have every prisoner in the facility locked up, don't you?" Nick asked, running hand through his hair.

"Yes, but…!"

"Someone can stay with me?" The Texan asked, wishing he didn't have to spoon feed this guy.

"We don't have enough administrative staff, they're off feeding the prisoners right now."

Nick looked at him impatiently, "Then lock the door and I'll be fine."

Greg looked at Nick alarmed, "I don't like that idea."

"Aww man, I just wanna finish this and go home. I'm sick." Nick whined, as he felt the sweat built up in his shirt under the black, nylon vest.

"Call Grissom and have him come out then!" Greg suggested, pulling out a flashlight.

"No, we don't need him." Nick crossed out the idea: the last thing he needed was Bugman surveying his work.

"I'll take you down there." A young man, coming in with a tray of food for the director, said, "And I'll stay with while you look around."

Nick followed the young Hispanic down the hall listening to him prattle on and on about he was saving up to go to college one day. The sound was like nails on a chalk board for the Texan and was relieved when they got to the entrance of the library.

It was a fair size library that looked pretty much like any other open to the community. The horizontal blinds were drawn. There was no one at the check out desk, as the librarian was holed up in the staff cafeteria until the strike ended.

"We have all kinds of textbooks here," Joe, the cook, told him, "A lot of these guys love to read the law books."

Nick snorted, "Yeah I bet they do." Then he made his way over to the magazine rack where some copies of _Sports Illustrated_, Time and _National Geographic_. "Does this place get a lot of traffic?"

"Yep, some of the guys study in here. They get free university education."

"No shit!" Nick answered sarcastically thinking about the number of kids out there who don't commit any crime and yet are students loaned up the wazzoo. He was startled then by a loud, horn like alarm sounding like an abbreviated air-raid siren.

"Oh shit!" The cook said. He looked at his Blackberry and recognized the code. "Prisoner on the loose!"

"What the fuck! You guys had 'em on lock down." Nick swerved and saw that the kid was gone, the door locked behind him. He ran over and tried to get out, but the kid mouthed the words, "I'll be back!"

The Texan stood there shocked. He pulled out his cell phone and called Greg, but the line was blocked for some strange reason. Frustration built as each time he rang Greg, he was greeted with beeping noises. He tried to message the kid, but even that wasn't working.

"Gees, Lab pays for the best reception and it gets jammed in an emergency." Nick mumbled, as he put the phone back in its holder. He surveyed his surroundings once more and then went over to pick up some Sports Illustrated. They were old and dusty.

His eye caught a copy of 'The Anthology of T.S. Elliot' and he thumbed it to a poem he had read in college, 'The Hollow Men'.

Unbeknownst to his colleagues, Nick was an avid reader and had a couple of anthologies of epic writers and poets. He liked _Edgar Allan Poe _and_ T.S. Elliot_. 'The Hollow Men' was his favourite poem.

Unlike Grissom, Nick kept that part of himself hidden for no other reason, as he didn't feel it had any connection to his job. He didn't bring his interests to work, he kept them out of work. His father had always told him that there was a time and a place for everything and literature didn't belong at work. Work was work and play was play.

Now, since it looked like he was going to be in the library for a while, Nick sat on the table and started to read through his favourite poem.

_We are the hollow men  
We are the stuffed men  
Leaning together  
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!  
Our dried voices, when  
We whisper together  
Are quiet and meaningless  
As wind in dry grass  
Or rats' feet over broken glass  
In our dry cellar_

Nick was reading the last stanza of the poem when his ear perked at the sound of noises coming from the shelves. Rats perhaps? Mice? The prison cat-the damn thing that followed him around earlier? He put the book down, slid off the table and slowly began to walk towards the noise.

All of a sudden, the lights went out plunging the library into sheer darkness. Blackness that made Nick jump and reach for his gun, but a giant hand had grabbed his wrist and twisted around and pushed it up his back.

"Fuck!" Nick screamed, "Get off me.."

Fabric was shoved into his mouth and he was yanked up against a muscle-bound body and held by equally muscles bound arms. "Had my eye on you each time you came to visit. When I was in holding at Clark County; remember me? I sure remember you." A twangy voice whispered in his ear, as one hand slid down his front and gripped his privates roughly.

Nick squirmed and tried to kick, and screamed until he felt something round pressed against his temple.

"Get him over to that table there." The voice was guttural, a slight twang indicative of a southerner.

"Gotcha!" Another voice more plain accented voice agreed.

**XXXxxxXXX**

Greg sat in the Director's Office, trying to call Nick's cell phone. It rang and rang. He messaged with no success. What the hell?

"I can't get in touch with him." He said to the Director, his face filled with worry.

"I'm sure he's safe. I trust my men to look after you."

Something in Greg's gut said otherwise, so he continued dialling the number but not getting any answer.

"Can we …"

The Director shook his head, "At this point we cannot do anything until all of this is cleared."

_**A/N: I lovingly borrowed the title from an independent French film from 2002 that starred Monica Bellucci. I've never seen the movie itself but the story centres around a man who seeks vengeance on a man he suspects rapes his girlfriend only to find out he's got the wrong guy.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Alas I emerge from one disaster to fall into a worse

**IRREVERSIBLE**

**CHAPTER 2**

**THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS.**

**I know I'm so mean to Nick. But as they say, we hurt the ones we love the most.**

**MUCH, MUCH THANKS TO MY BETAS, SCOOTER TV AND ALEXANDRA KHAYMAN, FOR THEIR EAGLE EYES.**

_Alas I emerge from one disaster to fall into a worse._

_Pierre Corneille_

The alarm was still going off in five second intervals, sounding like an abbreviated air raid siren.

They had the decency to untie him and even put everything back in its right place, vest included, albeit with his Glock pressed so hard against his temple that Nick was sure that given the pressure inflicted a bruise would form. They yanked him up like a wooden dummy and yanked the cloth roughly out of his mouth whereupon Nick gasped with relief as fresh oxygen entered his lungs. He could barely hear the warnings about keeping quiet or else, but he knew all too well they were being said as he'd been through this before.

Robotlike, Nick fumbled with zippers and the button on his black jeans…thank God for dark jeans…and finally the belt, tucking his button up denim shirt into his pants, then instinctively pulling it out and smoothing out the wrinkles. Taking in deep breaths to steady his heart which was pounding in his ears, he then slid his hand against the wall for a light switch, feeling a momentary blindness from the piercing glow of the fluorescent bulbs that lit up the room like a Christmas tree.

Walking proved painful, and he could hear the jokes from his colleagues, so he forced himself to walk as if nothing happened despite the pain. He sensed there was blood dripping down from, well from there, and he was again thankful his choice of jean today was dark, dark blue, almost black.

The gun, indeed, was on the check out counter where they left it after they were…done...with him. But he was exhausted and at least he knew it was there and all he wanted was some light.

The side of his face hurt from being pressed into the table for an unknown amount of time, while his wrists felt raw from struggling against what felt like an extension cord. His tactile senses had managed to remain on high alert despite being in fear mode. The senses had recorded everything and compartmentalized the event neatly into an area of his brain to remain until he was ready to process it.

BEEP! BEEP!

The noise tore through his brain, and he wished like hell it would stop. He'd forever associate loud beeping noises with…what happened.

He went over to the metal crime kit, opened it, and searched for a mirror or anything that could show his reflection. Somehow Catherine's compact was in there, and he wondered why for a moment before remembering that they'd used it to slide under the door of a locked room to check for a suspect.

Nick opened it, cleared his throat and looked.

Nothing appeared on the left side or the right of his face. Then he made eye contact with his reflection and knew that he would have to do whatever it took to look as normal as possible despite recent events. His eyes were still beet red from tears that escaped due to pain and fear for his own life. Sweat coated his face so much that he immediately reached over and grabbed some tissues out of the box on the table, wiped his face down, and absently tossed them.

He then ran a finger over the powder in her compact and covered up the redness on the side of his face, trying the figure out how to even the powder. Finally it looked like he'd done somewhat of an average job given he hadn't worn make up ever, except when he was rushing for a chosen fraternity that he had to get into because his Dad had been in it and his grandfather before that.

_"We doin' the Judge's boy!!"_

Folding the compact closed and putting it back into his kit, he then continued to go through the motions of going over a crime scene and discharging the obvious one. He picked the tiny light out of his kit and walked up and down the aisles, not even noticing that the alarm had long since ceased. He could feel blood trickling down his legs, into his socks and he prayed that it would stop.

Nick was walking aimlessly in circles as he suddenly found himself in the very same place and…

That's when he noticed the taste in his mouth, ran for the nearest wastepaper basket, and lurched even though there wasn't anything there to bring up. He wretched so violently that he thought for sure he was going to bring his entire intestines up and out of him like sausages in a butcher shop. Finally, he was able to stop.

Gasping, Nick was glad for the sour taste from the vomit in his mouth that covered up the previous taste of what, he dared not question.

It took a few more minutes for him to register the fact that the alarm had stopped ringing, and he jumped at the sound of pounding on the door.

"Mr. Stokes!!"

Panicked, Nick didn't answer right away. He froze to his spot like a prey animal sensing its predator near. Nary a hair or muscle did he move until his brain was able to process the voice and put it into a familiar context.

"Mr. Stokes, it's Mr. O'Flynn, the director. Are you in here?"

Gulping, Nick answered hoarsely, "Yeah! I am." He quickly hid the pail behind the photocopier.

"We're coming in." The door clicked as the lights on the door clicked from red to green as the card unlocked it.

Mr. Flynn appeared with a clean cut black man who reminded Nick of Barack Obama with his cocoa coloured skin and dark brown eyes.

_Warrick likes Obama, Nick thought. I like him too even though he's a Democrat. Catherine wants him to win because he's hot looking_.

Adrenaline had launched Nick's brain into producing random and useless thoughts to deviate away from the events.

"Are you okay?"

Nick nodded hastily. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just in here reading and waiting for the coast to clear is all."

The director studied him and then said, "You shouldn't have been left alone. The cook who was watching you will be suspended without pay for three weeks."

Nick nodded. "It was okay though. I just read some Sports Illustrated."

O'Flynn looked at the young man and then at the room.

"Why is the chair knocked over?" he asked pointedly, looking at the light brown wooded chair with red cushion seat that was turned over with legs in the air.

"_Get up asshole!!"_

Nick had tripped over something as they drug him over. They held firm, unfortunately, as he hoped the fall would loosen their grip and he could run off.

"I don't know. Look is my partner okay?" Nick asked, snapping out of his frozen state and switching back into criminalist mode.

"Sanders has been in my office for the past two hours. We were trying to call you." The Director was growing more and more suspicious and placed his hand on his hips reminding Nick of Ecklie.

"OH !" Nick reached for his cell phone. "I don't know… it didn't ring." He feigned an innocent smile.

"I think some of the guys on strike screwed up the entire security system here. This door should locked automatically, and the only people who could get in had to have a security card. So I don't know what happened." O'Flynn grumbled, still looking at the young man who had a deer in the headlights look about him, or more correctly a deer who'd been hit by a truck and was in shock.

He didn't look visibly hurt, but that look on his face…it was not the same look he'd arrived with. Somehow in the square of 90 minutes he'd gone from cocky to frightened, as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Seems like a strange place to have your gun Mr. Stokes," Obama's twin observed, picking the Glock up off the check out counter and studying it carefully before turning a suspicious gaze on the Texan.

"Yeah, I guess it is, isn't it?" Nick answered briskly, walking over, grabbing the gun, and placing it back in his holder. "Look, I didn't find anything in here important, so can we go back to my partner? Please?"

"Yeah okay." Mr. Flynn said, looking at his equally suspicious coworker.

Greg was sitting in the Director's Office waiting for Nick. He'd collected everything he could and was anxious to know if his buddy was okay. He'd just been read the riot act by Brass for going into a crime scene without waiting for him. Not wanting to implicate Nick, he simply just apologized and said yes it was stupid, very stupid indeed Brass. Sorry Brass.

He heard footsteps approach the door and looked up. His eyes widened at the sight of Nick's face.

"What happened to you man?!"

Nick looked shell shocked, as if he'd come out of hiding after being barricaded in a hole somewhere waiting for the bombings to end.

Upon closer examination, Greg changed that theory as Nick looked like he'd been running from bombs himself. His eyes…they looked liked they'd been witness to some horrible.

Working with Nick as long as he had, he knew the man well enough to know that he was not good at hiding his emotions, particularly if he'd been through the ringer. Greg was there when they'd opened the coffin, and the sight of the traumatized, sobbing man was enough to bring even him to the brink. Greg was normally quite stoic about things no matter how rough they got, while Nick was a window pane of emotions, much to the Texan's chagrin.

Greg also knew the look Nick's face wore right now. Don't ask questions!

"Hey…you…okay?" He asked tentatively.

Nick nodded, "Yeah I'm fine, but...uh...I think you were right when you said I came back to work too soon after that flu. So if you're done here, let's just go back to the Lab."

"Brass called. He's ticked off that we didn't wait for him to before going in. He wants us out now!"

"Yeah, well, whatever!" Nick was avoiding all eye contact with everyone right now.

xxXXxx

The silence on the way back to the Lab was so deafening that Greg finally clicked on Radiohead's Rainbows and forwarded it to Reckoner, knowing that Nick at least liked this song.

Tambourines and drums, then Thom Yorke's voice earnestly began to sing, filling the vehicle with his soprano voice.

Greg glanced sideways every so often and could hear the wheels churning in his friend's head.

"They found the two guys who escaped. Turns out they were in the chapel waiting to be found. They didn't know the guards were on strike," he told Nick, whose jaw was clenched so hard he could see a vein shining brightly through his neck.

Nick was quiet and then said, "Well, the staff obviously didn't do much of a head count."

"Probably because there are not enough of them to make a difference,"

Greg theorized. "I wonder if the guards are going to get canned."

Nick shook his head. "No, they can't do that. Then they'd have to rehire and train a bunch of others. They'll make a deal with them." Then he cleared his throat. "Greg, I'm just gonna close my eyes and sleep till we get back."

"Yeah, you know what? I'll take care of the evidence Nick. I'm going to drop you off at the walk-in clinic."

"No! Keeping going, okay?" Nick snapped angrily.

"Fine! I was trying to be nice!" Greg answered, irritated.

Nick swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

"_You ain't done this before!"_ A thick, twangy whisper in his ear.

His eyes popped open and he gasped.

"What now!?" Greg asked, irritated with his partner's ongoing mood swings. If he didn't know better, he would swear Nick Stokes suffered from some form of Bipolar Disorder or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and he wondered if his friend would start going all Britney Spears on him…shaved head, British accent and all. Well, the shaved head part had been done plenty of times before Britney. Now all Nick needed was the fake British accent, although he might do something different like Scottish, Afrikeneer, who knows?

Nick shook his head and tried to close his eyes, then nausea hit him full force.

"Stop the car Greg!"

Greg pulled over and lurched to a stop, but it was too late. Nick had vomited into the pail that was in between the seats.

Sheepishly, Nick opened the door, dumped the contents onto the side of the road, and used the remaining water in his bottle to wash it out.

Greg waited patiently and didn't say a word, knowing Nick already felt like an idiot and he didn't need to add to it.

Finally the Texan finished cleaning up, set the pail back into its spot, and cleared his throat.

"Are we good to go?"

Nick looked at Greg who smiled with sympathy and amusement.

"Yeah!" He answered the younger man gruffly, getting back into the car and slamming the door shut, then leaning his head into his hands and breathing deeply before sitting back abruptly, resulting in a whoosh feeling coming to his head.

"Sure you don't want to go to that clinic?"

"No. Just drop me off at home." Nick said leaning against the window staring at the desert around them wondering how it all could look so normal when he wasn't.

About an hour later Greg pulled into Nick's driveway where the Texan clumsily drug himself out of the Denali.

"Let me go get something to clean up…"

Greg shook his head. "Hey don't worry about it. I mean, I worked in the Lab and saw all kinds of body fluids. Only difference here is I know it's yours."

Nick smiled feebly, "I owe you man!"

"Don't worry…I'll collect!" Greg told him patting his back.

Nick flinched, recoiled from him sharply, and glared at the touch, reminding Greg of a Beagle (he always thought Nick looked like a Beagle with his Snoopy nose and brown eyes) who'd been kicked too many times and was ready to fear bite.

"Sorry!" The younger man looked confused and was about to say something, but the door had slammed shut and Nick had already gone into the house.

The Texan entered his house and took a look around while he closed the door behind him and set the alarm…something he put in shortly after the Nigel Crane incident. If someone was going to watch him from his attic, his alarm would let him know it.

He hung his key on the hook over the side table that held his gun and made his way to the bathroom immediately, not even stopping to take his gun off. Nick made a beeline for the shower and turned on the faucet.

Steam filled the bathroom as he tore off his shirt and undid his pants, sliding them off along with his boxers.

Trembling, Nick finally managed to look down and noticed the blood, a lot of blood. It soaked the back of his boxers, and dried up on the back of his legs. He'd 'accidentally' sat on his baseball hat on the way back and hoped that it soaked the blood. No, it happened and he had to deal with it.

Furiously, he kicked them to the corner. He reached into the cupboard below the sink, brought out a bottle of liquid Ivory Soap, and walked to the shower. A part of Nick's brain was warning him that he was washing away evidence, but another part of him told it to just shut the fuck up and to use his skills to do away with the evidence.

His skin was beginning to turn red from the heat of the water, but he didn't care. Nick poured the entire of bottle of liquid soap over every inch of him, head included, and with a nail brush he scrubbed and scrubbed. No part of his skin was left untouched. Even the areas that were torn and bleeding, only bled more. The raw skin on his wrists screamed when hit with the soap.

He watched the blood, soap and water mix with one another and swirl around and go into the drain. He leaned into the wall, trying to calm down.

_Pain, sheer pain, tearing him while they laughed, the gun pressing into his temple._

Jolting upright, he scrubbed some more and more and more.

It wasn't enough. So Nick grabbed a bottle of his shampoo and scrubbed again and again, his nails digging in and ripping and tearing at his skin.

His mind was in survival mode, and all he could think was how he needed to wash them off him. The harder he scrubbed, the more that he could get them out of his skin.

Finally thinking he was going to rub himself so raw that people would ask questions, Nick felt ready enough to turn off the shower. Opening the curtain he noticed the bathroom looked like a sauna, and he started to wonder if he was really, really alone in his home.

He ran a hand over the steamed mirror and thought for a second that someone was behind him. He whipped around and saw no one. He looked at himself, avoiding eye contact with his own reflection, and focused on the self-inflicted injuries and the ones inflicted on him and made comparisons.

Nick towel dried himself and tied it around his waist and stepped over where his clothes laid on the black mat. He knelt down in front of the small pile of jeans and boxers.

Slowly he took his holder off and stared at the Glock which glistened with the steam from the shower.

_This is the way Nick Stokes ends, not with a whimper but with a bang!_

Nick could almost hear a tiny voice beckoning him to do it…just to do it.

He'd never read T.S. Eliot again. Maybe some Edgar Allan Poe?

_Once upon a midnight cleary_

_While I pondered weak and weary_

Now all Nick needed was a black raven to perch itself somewhere in his house chanting, "Nevermore!" when asked if he'd ever forget this past 24 hours.

Somehow he pictured the raven looking like Hodges, the know-it-all lab technician.

He pulled the Glock out of the holder, stared at it for a moment, and resolved silently not to listen to that stupid voice that had been with him since the day he came out of the box in the grave.

Nick stood up painfully from injuries inflicted on parts not to be mentioned, took the gun and his holster into his bedroom, put in his night table drawer, and shut the drawer.

Then he sat on the dark grey comforter on his bed, running his hands up and down his legs, fingers trailing the white towel and breathed deeply to control an urgent panic that was trying to overcome him. He nodded to himself to get going and do what needed to be done.

He tried the grounding technique his therapist taught him.

Count five things you smell, five things you hear, five things you see, five things you feel.

"I see curtains, a chair, a dresser…" Nick mumbled to himself.

The voices in his head were fighting to take command of the panic. The scientist part urged him to collect the evidence, whatever was left, and give it to someone objective at the lab; the cop berated him for taking a shower and washing away whatever evidence was left; the victim…slash that as he was never a victim.

A better analogy to describe him would be a terrified animal, a horse as a matter of fact, for Nick knew that the therapist part of him was telling him that he was in major fight/flight mode and flight was winning the battle right now, simply wanting to flee the scene that lay on the bathroom floor.

Tossing the towel aside, he pulled some black jockeys, track pants and a Texas Rangers shirt out of his dresser and pulled them over him, wincing at the fabric rubbing on his wounds.

Nick then went back into the bathroom, picked up his clothes (averting his eyes from the crusted blood), and headed to the kitchen where he found a book of matches.

In his backyard was a steel barrel that was left behind by the previous tenant. What was it doing here he never figured out, but now he was glad because he could use it for something else.

It was blazing hot out, the sun noon drying the grass to an ugly shade of brown in his postage stamp sized backyard that he barely used.

He was just about to light the match when a crusty voice called out to him, "What you are doing?"

Nick yelped and whipped around to see old lady Matthews looking over her fence. She was about 80 years old and had even more energy then he did, but she was nosy and seemed to know what was going on with just about everybody in the neighbourhood, including Nick although he was hardly home. But she knew every girl that he'd had there.

"Nothing, just burning some photos of an old girl friend, ma'am." He smiled politely at her.

"Which one? That redheaded girl you brought home a few times? Didn't think you two lasted long enough for pictures to be taken." She narrowed her piercing blue eyes at him, her blonde/gray hair swept into a pony tail. Nick had often thought she looked a bit like Jane Goodall, the chimp lady.

Jane Goodall dressed in drab clothes with a cigarette permanently affixed to the corner of her mouth.

Mrs. Matthews was also the resident cat lady. She had at least six of them, and a few times some of those fuzzballs walked into Nick's house. He often thought about the Crazy Cat Lady on the Simpsons and wondered if one day she'd run to his house flailing cats at him screaming jibberish.

She was too lucid for that unfortunately, because it might be a tad entertaining to watch her flail cats around, although with Nick's luck one would probably hit him right on the head, claws embedded into his eye socket. Try explaining that one to Grissom.

"_Stop whining Nick!"_

"_But Griss, she hit me right in the face with a cat?!"_

"_Well next time duck faster!!"_

Nick smiled slightly at the fantasy, grateful for its comedic interlude then smiled at her royal felinesness and said, "Have a nice evening Mrs. Matthews. Say hi to the pride you got there!"

She eyed him suspiciously before plucking a plump ginger tabby off the wooden fence that separated their houses and headed in, the door slamming behind her.

Sighing, the dark-haired Texan looked at his matches and concluded that it was too risky to burn the clothes. So he picked up the barrel, carried it to his back door, and left it to the side. He took the clothes out of it and decided to just wait until garbage day.

After bagging the clothes and hiding them away, he looked at the rope burns on his arms and wrists, the bruising almost displaying the indentations of the extension cord, something he, a criminalist, would notice and possibly his colleagues if he was not careful. He had squirmed and fought so hard that his wrists were chafed, looking angry and horribly red. He had some burn ointment somewhere in the house. His ankles were spared since he was wearing socks at the time, although they too ached.

Nick opened his medicine cabinet and found a small container of 2 per cent Hydrocortisone that his doctor had given him for his ant bites. He smeared some of it on the sores on his arms, his legs, and the back of his neck. As he did his neck he swore he heard their voices again and felt their kisses on his neck.

He tried not look at his face in the mirror, not an easy chore given that he was trying to put some cream on his neck. Then something caught his eye, and he peered closer to the mirror.

A purplish bruise had formed on one side of his face and on the other side, the distinct mark of the barrel of a gun.

"_Sweet, just sweet, you ain't done this before, cowboy!" _

Nick snatched his hand back, put the lid back on the jar, and set it back on the shelf. He then pulled out some Trazadone, popped them in his mouth, and gulped an entire bottle of water.

Unfortunately, his stomach couldn't handle the onslaught of the liquid, and he ran for the toilet and wretched.

"Shit!" He moaned, then checked his medicine cabinet for Gravol and was relieved to see some.

He checked his voice mail. Only four messages: one from Greg seeing if he was okay; one from Brass him out for being impulsive and reminding him of the other time he went trip tropping through a crime scene without a police escort and had he not learned anything yet? No, of course not. Can someone say PlexiGlass?

Another from Pamela letting him know she'd be in town; and another from his mom which he immediately erased as her voice pained him.

He then checked his cell phone to see if anyone from the lab called. Nobody. Good.

Nick strolled into the kitchen for some more water when the cell rang causing him to jump out of his skin. He looked at the call display and was relieved to see it was Catherine.

"Hey Nicky!" she greeted.

"Hi Cath!"

"Greg told me you had a rough time at the prison."

Nick gulped and mumbled, "He did? What did he say?"

There was a silence before she answered, "Just that you were sick, really sick. So why don't you take the next few days off and I'll have Warrick take over the case until you get back?"

Nick sighed in relief, "Yeah Cath! That would be great. Thanks."

"Nick? Are you okay? You sound very strange."

"I'm fine, I'm just really, really tired. I was just about to go to bed."

"Look, don't worry about your car. We'll bring it by for you later.

Warrick and I are going for dinner, so we'll drop off your car for you.

It'll be there by the time you wake up."

"Sounds great!" Nick said and then he asked, "Uh…Catherine…can...can...I…give the case to Warrick...I…mean...is it okay that I hand the case to him?"

"Oh." Catherine said, "Umm, I would ask Grissom that question, Nick."

"Yeah," Nick could tell his voice was tightening, "Yeah...sure...I'll do that when I get back."

"He's off with the flu too, Typhoid Mary," Catherine giggled.

"Sorry…didn't mean to start something."

"That's fine. You know what, I've got to go, Nick. Look, call me anytime if you need me, okay?"

Back in the bedroom, he turned on a fan for some white noise to aid him in his sleep and then curled into bed, throwing the covers over his head and curling into a fetal position, wanting to feel as safe as possible.

His hand wrapped around his gun tucked under his pillow. Sleep soon enveloped him, and for a time he was back in Reno enjoying the athletic prowess of Pamela and their conjugal meeting. Grunts…heavy breathing…sighs. "You likin' this cowboy! I think you are. I can tell," she said, only her voice was the voice of his attacker.

"Jesus Christ!" Nick shot up in bed, sweat pouring down his back and face, stinging the wounds.

"Jesus!!" He closed his eyes and prayed, "Jesus, I just wanna forget about it. It didn't happen. I just imagined the whole thing…ok...okay."

He rocked back and forth and placed his face in his hands, then sobbed for a good solid 10 minutes before regaining control of himself.

The room was pitch black save for his digital alarm.

Nick remembered interviewing a young girl in a contraption and her claims of selective amnesia, and he had told her at the time how he wished he had it because there were just some things he'd like to forget.

This was one of them.

Nick lay back down on the pillow and threw an arm over his face, breathing hard. Maybe he'd get lucky and be in a car accident and his pain would end because he'd either be dead or simply just get a conk on the head.

Numb. He felt numb. Images of what happened to him played behind his eyelids like a horror film he couldn't get out of.

A small voice told him repeatedly that it wasn't his fault, but it was drowned out by the rage that was directed not only at the people who hurt him but at himself for allowing it to happen.

How could I let this happen to me? I played football in college! I studied martial arts and all that self-defense. I'm not the tallest guy around, but I sure as hell can hold my own.

When I was nine, I had an excuse. I was a kid, but now I'm a grown man so this time I'm to blame for this.

"_He's kind of skinny guy! Think he can handle this?"_

"_Hey man, it's his first time, I'll be gentle…sort of!"_

The pain of the injuries both induced and self-inflicted were irritating him, so he jumped out of bed and walked to the bathroom to find something else to take the pain away.

Nick looked at himself in the mirror. He could see his nose was running. He always hated that nose of his. He turned then to look at the circular bruise on the side of his face.

For a moment, he wished Sara was here. She would be ready with some fact, some statistic about what happened to him to help him ease the self-reproach and self-hate he felt at this moment. She'd never judge him for this.

He remembered their talk a few months after he was buried alive.

"_It was not your day to die. When it's your day, it's your day."_

Is today the day Sara?

And then he thought about her reaction, wherever she was, if he put the Glock in his mouth. She'd come back from wherever she was, open the coffin and shake him telling him what a stupid idiot he was for doing this!

Sometimes it's just too damn hard Sara.

No, he wasn't a suicidal man. He relished life, even more so after he was buried alive. He was grateful for small things and big things.

This was different. Something was stolen from him today. He couldn't put a finger on what it was, but something was taken from him. His identity was gone. He didn't know who he was or what he was or whether he asked for it or not.

Sara would say no, he didn't ask for it. But he didn't ask to be buried alive either, although sometimes he wondered if he should have been more careful that night in the alley. He probably should have been. But that guy Gordon had it in for a CSI, any CSI. And it was just Nick's lucky day.

This time these two jerks had in for him too. He said as much so during the attack.

Nick couldn't recall much, but he heard things said about him…Clark County holding, his dad, something about being watched.

Nick decided to try again with the Trazadone as the nausea had subsided considerably.

Slowly and painfully he crawled back into bed and threw the covers over his head, curling up into a ball.

Finally, his body began to relax as the sleep aid worked its way into his system, and he slipped into a dreamless slumber.

**A/N: I wrote this chapter long before Grissom's Divine Comedy.**


	3. Chapter 3

**IRREVERSIBLE**

**CHAPTER THREE**

_**I'm sorry about the triple posting-I messed up big time.**_

_Thanks to Smokey 596 for her eagle eyes._

_Thanks for all the reviews I've gotten and yes Nicky does need a little lovin' right now, and he gets it from an unexpected source. The quotation gives you a hint._

_Every cat is a lion in its own lair._

_Indian Proverb_

Greg finished signing off on the evidence and headed to his locker to check out for the day.

Warrick was already there, buttoning up a clean shirt.

"Catherine asked me to take over the prison murder until Nick gets back," he told the younger CSI.

Greg sighed wearily. He seriously wanted to go home and sleep himself.

"I just pulled a double," he whined.

"I didn't say I was going to do it now. I'm done pulling a double too.

We'll get right on it on the next shift, okay?"

Greg nodded with relief and closed the locker. "Did you know Nick was locked in the library by himself?"

Warrick looked at him incredulously. "What the hell, man! He was supposed to be watched!"

"Yeah I know, but the little cook took off wanting to be a hero or something."

"Was he okay?"

Not really, but Greg swallowed and instead answered, "Seemed to be. He looked a bit freaked by it!"

"No shit man. Those guys could have been in the library with him and who knows what they would do?"

"Well they were in the chapel, so Nick was fine. They had cameras on the library the whole time."

Warrick shut his locker. "I'm gonna call him and see if all is well." With that he headed out the door.

xxXXxx

Nick sat up in bed, feeling clammy again from both fear and fever. Every inch of him felt raw and wet. The sweat stung his wounds.

He was also cold, very cold, and even though he had been covered from head to toe with a thick comforter he was covered in goose bumps.

He stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. He wanted to take another bath. He was too groggy from the sedative and analgesic concoction he'd taken, and he didn't want stand up in the tub.

Plus, if he was drowsy enough he'd fall asleep in the tub and…well…this is the way Nick Stokes goes, not with a bang, but with a whimper.

The hot, steamy water was up to his chin as he held his pocket knife in his hands and studied it. Nick was surprised to see it in his hands as he didn't even realize he had grabbed it.

Women have a higher rate of suicide attempts, but men tend to be more successful at it because they use more violent means, he thought.

Men don't normally slash their wrists.

But it does happen. Nick studied the pocket knife some more and then simply tossed it to the other side of his washroom. He lay in the tub, noticing that he was becoming more awake.

Suicide was cowardly, he thought. He'd only thought about it once, and that wasn't even suicide. That would have been a mercy killing.

He knew he should probably try to get to a doctor because maybe something else was going on inside him. In fact, he probably should have gone right away, but that was not on the agenda.

Finally he decided to get out of the tub and wearily and still painfully get some clean clothes on. The ones he wore to bed were still soaked in sweat.

Then he went back and found his pocket knife and squirreled it way somewhere in his house. Out of sight, out of mind.

His cell phone rang, causing him to jump almost to the ceiling and made him think of one of the cats from the Bugs Bunny cartoons he watched as a kid with the cat hanging from the ceiling by its nails, shaking after the puppy ran up and barked its head off at it.

He held the cell phone to his ear. "Uh, hello."

"Yo it's Rick, you okay?" Warrick's voice came as a welcome relief.

Nick smiled with relief. "Yeah fine. Why?"

"Heard you had some problems at the prison?"

"What…what kind of problems?" Nick asked, feeling his heart rate increase.

"You, locked in the library, two prisoners on the loose. What were you thinking going out there by yourself, man?"

"Um…" Nick searched for a good comeback but failed. "I guess wasn't."

"No, you weren't. Next time you do something stupid like that I'll come over there and pop that big chin of yours. You hear me?"

Smiling, the Texan answered, "Yeah. I hear ya!"

"Good, anyways gotta go."

"Yeah thanks." Nick clicked the phone off.

He steadily walked into the kitchen and grabbed some Tylenol and another bottle of cold water, then went over to his EZ Chair and flipped on the TV.

Anderson Cooper, CNN's venerable white haired, blue eyed reporter was talking away with Steve Corwin, the animal guy. They were standing by some elephants when one elephant grabbed Corwin and yanked him around like a crash test dummy.

Nick snickered and mumbled, "Way to go, Dumbo!" And he could have sworn the elephant was laughing while Corwin nursed a presumably very sore arm.

"Score one for the elephant," the Texan smiled.

The rest of the show grabbed his interest as it delved into the world of illegal animal trade, and Nick had an excuse to argue within himself about how bad the world had gotten that it allowed the rarest of animals to be brutally killed because some thought they could get harder dicks from eating tiger penises.

"_They do make everything bigger in Texas!"_

Nick shot up in the EZ Chair and looked around.

Nobody was there.

He leaned back and soon goose bumps formed on his arms. He stumbled out of the chair to check out the weather and see if it was okay to finish what he had started the night before. He grabbed the bag of clothes and headed out.

Nick went outside to the back. It was blazing hot and dry out, and as much as he wanted to burn the clothes in the barrel he was too damned scared of starting some kind of major blaze and having to explain that to the authorities.

The Texan walked back into his house and shut the door behind him, leaning against it. He then took the bag, went into his bedroom, and shoved it into the closet.

It had been over 24 hours since it had happened. The combination of Tylenol and Trazadone (both drugs which he wasn't entirely sure were safe to take together, but he didn't particularly care) had knocked Nick senseless. That was a good thing because it meant he didn't have to think about what had happened almost a day ago.

It had been almost 30 years since it happened to him for the first time.

At that time, he simply pretended it didn't happen and went about his young life like any other nine year old.

Except that he had wet the bed numerous times. But being the precocious kid he was, he hid the sheets in a secret spot in his closet until laundry day and then shoved them in for the housekeeper to do.

And in Sunday school, he silently prayed for it to stop and to please forgive him for what happened because it was his entirely fault. Obviously he did something to deserve it. Of course, that's what kids think when they are nine and the world revolves around them.

God must have been listening because the bed wetting miraculously stopped, so therefore God felt he was good and punished for this sin and now it was okay to move on.

He also spent more time with the horses around the ranch. There were some horses that only went to Nick for some reason. He wasn't like his dad who was an old school cowboy and used brute force to train some of the beasts.

Nick was kind of the local horse whisperer who studied their body language and communicated via soft talk and reassuring tones.

But only when his dad wasn't around.

In school he immersed himself in science books, math, and everything else that he enjoyed and he earned top marks. His parents thought he was brilliant, but for him it was an escape and his marks meant nothing to him. He got them simply because he absorbed the information.

And then there were sports, sports, and more sports. Not to show off, but because he was running again from the pain into the comforting arms of the things he loved to do. It was simple really.

However, some events in life change your direction and your attitude about everything else. Nick worked the outside to cover up how he felt about himself on the inside, which was disgusting and gross.

And when he started studying criminology in university, it was then he discovered that this happened to more kids then he thought, and it was then he decided to go in a different direction than his parents and use his love for science to solve crimes.

Unfortunately, time, age, and traumatic events have a way of wearing you down and eventually you run out of gas.

And that's how Nick was feeling right now. He was tired of this crap that life kept throwing at him. When he wasn't being thrown out a window by a stalker, he was being buried alive by some vengeful dude whose daughter had landed in jail.

Sighing heavily from deep thoughts that drained his grey matter, Nick sat back on the couch and turned on Spike TV to watch a bit of the Ultimate Fight Championship, but watching two guys wrestle with each other wasn't good for his appetite, so he flipped the channels around to Animal Planet to watch Animal Precinct. However, the sight of abused animals was a little too much for him at this point and he knew he'd be bawling like a baby within minutes. So he channel surfed a little more.

He looked at his Play Station 2 and thought about playing Guitar Hero, but then he scratched that idea. Last time he played Guitar Hero it was when his buddies were here, and he kicked Warrick's and Greg's butts with the Rolling Stone's Painted Black.

xxXXxx

At the end of the week, Catherine strolled through the lab exhausted from doing her own job and Grissom's and she wanted to find out how much manpower she had left after the last shift.

She walked into the break room where Warrick sat munching a hero sandwich and watching the news.

"Okay, you're here, Greg's gone home, and I don't see Nicky."

Then she looked around. "Where is he?"

"Still sick, I guess," Warrick said.

"How goes the prison murder?" She noticed Warrick studying the file and hoped he wouldn't drop mayo on it.

"Well, toxicology found nothing in Noir's system. Doc said COD was blunt force trauma to the back of his skull. The director called and said the strike is over and he hasn't touched the crime scene, so we can go back and take another look through in case Greg and Nick forgot something. Kind of crazy that day, so I wouldn't be surprised if there was something missed."

"Um..." Catherine said. "Well, I'd like to get Nick back on it as soon as possible. I know he doesn't want to do it, but we're short with Grissom out, and Greg wasn't looking too good so I guess I'll have to take Nick to the doctor since he probably hasn't gotten around to it."

Warrick smirked, "What are you, his mother? Since when do you take us to the doctor? Lindsay too grown up for you now?"

Catherine smiled back him nodding and then said as sweet as pie, "Shut up!"

xxXXxx

The doorbell rang and Nick stumbled in his jockeys and t-shirt to the door annoyed that someone was interrupting March Madness.

He peeked through it and saw Catherine Willows standing and smiling behind shades and blonde hair with a form fitting, V-necked shirt that displayed her ample bosom more times than Nick could count.

Willows knew how to animate a crime scene, although telling her so would not only get him suspended but do damage to the family jewels.

"Oh shit!" He opened the door slightly and peeked through. "Hey Cath!"

She smiled. "Nicky, get dressed. I'm taking you to the doctor!"

He stared at her incredulously. Since when was she his mother? Last he checked he had one in Texas, right where he wanted her to be.

"Cath, you don't have to that," he sighed, then became alarmed. "Why?!"

"Why?! Because you've been off sick for two days now and we are short staffed. So get decent or I'll come in there and dress you myself!" she ordered, smiling devilishly.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Nick asked flirtatiously, surprised he could muster that.

"Maybe you would like me to try it out." She grinned devilishly at the thought of seeing one of her favourite guys in boxers and a T. Nick had only half his body out the door, so she assumed he was lying around the house nursing the flu.

"No that's okay! I've been dressing myself since I was three."

"Really? Lindsay was two," she quipped proudly.

Nick stared at her, slightly annoyed, and then shut the door saying, "I'll be out in five minutes."

He headed to his bedroom where the bed was askew with white sheets and a twisted grey comforter. The last few days had been spent sleeping, thanks to the Trazadone, showering, bathing, and more sleeping with his gun held tightly under his pillow.

To his surprise, an orange kitten with big blue eyes lay in the middle of his bed.

"What are you doing here?" Nick placed his hands on his hips.

The kitten mewed at him and stretched out, looking at Nick as if to say, 'What a silly question," then rolled onto his back and gave his best, cute, widdle kitten look.

It was one of Mrs. Matthews' cats who liked to escape and slip into Nick's house every so often, hiding in some bushes by the steps of his house and running in. The cat knew Nick's shift better then he knew it.

After a while, Nick gave up and let the cat hang out for a few hours then gently put him outside when he went to bed.

Being the sucker that the Texan was he would sit watching TV and toss a few bits and pieces of his sandwich to the cat who inhaled them.

Now the cat was making itself at home which made Nick feel like the guy in that song he used to sing in kindergarten:

_But the cat came back the very next day,_

_The cat came back, we thought he was a goner, _

_The cat came back, he just wouldn't stay away._

He shook his head to get the annoying tune out of his head. The last few days, useless thoughts had been in and out of his head as if to try to cover up the obvious of which the shock was wearing off.

The rumbling of kitty purrs brought him back out of his reverie and he stared at the animal, irritated. Despite Sara's accusation, he really didn't hate cats. He was more of a dog person, but that was beside the point. It was simply a matter of not having the time to look after a living creature, whether it was a cat, dog, birds, or even fish.

Nick fixed the cat with a scolding stare as the animal stretched and purred all wide-eyed and innocent, not concerned at all about the indignant bed owner staring at him.

Then the Texan tore his T-shirt off and tossed it onto the cat who simply crawled out from under it then proceeded to lay on it, mewing cheerfully at him.

"I thought I told you go to home!" Nick said as he pulled a fresh, clean, grey Nike T-shirt over his head and pulled some black track pants on. He then scooped up the cat and headed out the front door.

Catherine looked at him, confused, as she saw Nick with the orange tabby.

"Oh, are we bringing our friend with us?" Catherine asked, bemused, lifting her shades up to stare at the fur ball.

"The crazy cat lady owns this one and it keeps sneaking into my house."

"Aw, you made a friend, Nick. You need some kitty in your life!" Catherine teased.

"You're a real comedian, Cath!" Nick responded flatly. "More like the cat keeps coming back the very next day." He set the fur bag on the porch and it immediately started cleaning its rumpled fur, staring sweetly at the Texan who scoffed at it. "Don't shit in my garden or bring fleas into my house or I'll jar and pickle you and give you to my freaky boss."

Catherine stifled a laugh as the kitten continued to look at Nick ever so sweetly as if it knew that the crusty Texan would never do such a thing.

Then Nick looked at Catherine and grumbled, "Okay, let's go to the doctor, Mommy!"

"Oh bite me!!" She slid some shades on and headed down the steps.

"Where?!" Nick teased with a sheepish grin.

"You're a real flirt for someone who's supposed to be sick," she said as they got into her car.

"Yeah, I guess I got a talent for something."

In the car, Catherine fixed the mirror and then noticed the side of Nick's face.

It was purple and blue, a bruise that was healing.

"Hey what happened here? You get into a fight or something?" she asked Nick and noticed his jaw clenching. They worked for almost ten years together and she could read Nick like a book. That clenched jaw sounded out loud and clear that it was not a topic to be discussed.

"I fell in the bathroom. It was a dizzy spell," he answered, short and sweet, and hoped that the tone of his voice made it loud and clear that he didn't want to talk about it. He felt Catherine's stare on him and he turned to her, "I told you I fell over."

She then noticed that there were some wild looking scratches on his neck.

"So what's with the abrasions on your neck?" Catherine asked. "Like you scrubbed yourself raw or something."

The angry welts looked about a day old, like scratches. Not finger nails though. More like a hard brush of sorts.

"Unless you had some wild sex."

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" Nick snapped and slumped back into his seat. "I'm sorry, Cath. This is the longest I've been sick, and I'm tired of feeling like a bag of shit is all."

Catherine nodded, smiled, and reached out to touch Nick's arm.

He instantly recoiled, glaring at her.

She cleared her throat and started the ignition.

xxXXxx

"Oh I would love to take this picture!"

Catherine smiled at Nick who was asked by the receptionist to wear a mask to prevent the spread of germs.

"Because of that damn Canadian virus that was going around!" he growled as he pulled the white mask over his face.

"Actually it started in China." She smiled at him, completely amused.

"I don't care where it started!" he growled as he slumped into a seat and grabbed a dated National Geographic and tried to read it. "Hodges would love a picture." Then he mimicked the lab tech, "You know they wear masks in China!!"

"Oh Nicky," Catherine groaned. "You and Hodges really need to make amends."

"Not a chance in hell. I'd date Miley Cyrus first."

"Uh…you're old enough to be her father."

"That's what I'm saying...not a chance in hell."

"How do you know about Miley Cyrus, Nicky? My excuse is I have a teenage daughter. What's yours?"

"Hahahahahaha!"

"And from what I hear, you're already dating someone young enough to be your daughter?" Catherine asked, eyebrows raised.

"You know, don't I have any privacy?" Nick whined angrily. "Next thing you know a friggin' sex tape will be going all over the lab."

Catherine continued to giggle at the sight of the good-looking Texan looking like he was preparing for the spread of the Ebola virus.

He pulled his baseball cap down even further and tried to not to listen to Catherine's giggles.

"Don't you dare tell anyone about this," he mumbled through the mask, sounding very muffled.

"I promise I won't."

"You won't because I'll tell everyone you wanted to see me in my underwear!" He raised his eyebrows up and down at her.

"Oh you're funny, Nick!" Catherine grabbed a magazine and started looking through it and that's when she noticed Nick's wrists as he held the sports magazine.

They were chafed…bruised. Catherine studied them obscurely not wanting the same reaction as she had before. She was a CSI and knew something was wrong there.

"You playin' funny games, Nicky?" she asked him.

Nick peered over the magazine and focused, following her gaze to his wrists.

"I don't discuss my love life, Catherine," he answered quietly, deciding he'd rather her think he was playing kinky games than…than...

Catherine took the hint. "Warrick's agreed to do your case until you get back."

"Which case?"

"The prison one!"

"Oh, I thought he would take that one on permanently." Nick felt his heart starting to beat rapidly.

"We're packed, Nick. The guards are back on duty. They settled their strike so conditions are much safer."

She placed her magazine back on the table. "You know that was pretty risky going in there without security."

She studied Nick's reaction behind the mask and noticed his demeanor going from what one would call relaxed to extremely tense. His jaw tightened once again under the mask.

"Nick Stokes!!" a young female nurse called. "The doctor is ready to see you now."

The Texan jumped up, relieved that he was spared from any questioning.

Catherine pulled her cell phone out and called Greg.

"Sanders."

"What happened when you guys were at the prison?"

"Nick canvassed the library and then apparently they miscounted the prisoners and two of them were not in the cells. So Nick was locked in the library."

"By himself?" Catherine's eyes widened in alarmed.

"Yeah, well there was a staff member there with him. The cook."

"The cook?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah, there was some commotion because two prisoners weren't accounted for."

Catherine slumped back in the chair. "Okay, thanks Greg."

A foreboding feeling overcame her, but she shrugged it off. Not because she didn't care, but because it couldn't be possible, unlike her own situation at the motel shortly before Sam died where Catherine was drugged and incapacitated.

She couldn't stomach the thought, although Nick's behaviour reminded of her of how she felt after her ordeal. Even though she wasn't technically raped, it was still an event that gave her many sleepless nights.

The scratches could have come from a heat rash from the fever. The bruise…well he could have fallen, it was plausible. And the wrists, well who knew what kinky games Nick engaged in during his off time. Given that the guy kept his private life very, very private, anything was possible. She had heard through the grapevine that he was seeing some 20 year old from Reno.

The pit of her stomach clenched. Typical that a nearly 40 year old man would go for the twentysomethings…until they realized that other then hot sex they didn't have much in common with them.

Catherine deduced then that perhaps Nick's weird behaviour was a result of this young thing that he was seeing.

Her father certainly loved the young ones, although they were just arm décor as far as Catherine was concerned. Young women to make old guys feel young.

Never mind. It was none of her business, and like most things Nick had to learn this one for himself.

"Well Nick, I don't think there's much I can do for you other then encourage you to take some vitamins. You look run down. I want to take some blood from you, as I suspect you might be suffering from anemia and that could be why it's taking too long to recover from this virus."

The 40ish doctor typed into the laptop. Nick had seen him many times and liked him. It was nice to have someone around his age. He had seen Doctor Zayid before. He was known as "McDreamey" from some stupid medical show that the lab ladies liked to watch for whatever reason since as far as Nick was concerned how the hell would med students have the time to engage in conjugal drama?

Dr. Zayid was short, thin, with curly brown hair and blue eyes that reminded Nick of that damn cat that kept sneaking into his house to steal his pastrami, which reminded him he'd left some of it on the counter. Knowing that cat he was probably sneaking in there now and having a feast.

Nick nodded feebly and then asked, "Can I ask you a question, Doc?"

"Sure," his eyes never leaving the laptop.

Rolling his tongue around his mouth he finally looked at the doctor and asked, "How long…after…exposure…should I have a test for AIDS?"

Dr. Zayid immediately stopped typing and looked at Nick concerned.

"Well, it's good to get tested right away, although the tests might be negative or a false positive as the virus needs time to work itself into the system. You'll have to come back in three months, six months, and then one year to be conclusive." He pulled out a form. "Would you like one?"

"Yeah, thanks," Nick answered. "But I'll pay for it okay? Don't charge this to my insurance."

The doctor nodded sympathetically. "Just wait here and the nurse will be in to take the blood work."

Then he looked at Nick even more closely. "You've been in a fight or something. You have bruises on your face."

"You could say I've been in fight," Nick answered. "A bar fight."

"Oh." Dr. Zayid shrugged.

As they drove back to Nick's house, Catherine asked, "So when can you come back to work?"

"Doc said I could start tomorrow."

"Good. Then you and Greg can head back over to the prison then?"

"Warrick can't do it?" Nick asked, his voice tight.

"No, he can't. You should be fine, Nick. Honestly."

"It's not that. I just want to do another case." Nick could feel his heart jumping around in his chest.

"Well then, talk to Warrick yourself," Catherine said sharply, not wanting to deal with the 'gimme, gimmes' of cases.

Nick folded his arms and said, "I don't want to go back there, Catherine!"

"And may I ask why not?" she asked. "You were all keen to get into the library without any security, so why the safety gears in motion now?"

"I just don't want this case."

"Nick, you don't a have choice here."

"Oh well, you certainly didn't have a problem taking a few cases off my hands without asking me, but when I want to dump a case off on someone else…"

"Okay Nick, give me one good reason why you don't want this case! What, the prisoners make too many remarks about your or something?"

Nick glared at her and ordered, "Stop the car, I'll walk home!!"

"No!" Catherine shook her head. "Geeze...if I didn't know better I'd think I was talking to Lindsay."

"STOP THE FUCKING CAR!" Nick shouted, slamming his hands on the dashboard.

Startled and frightened, Catherine pulled the car over and watched as Nick undid his seat belt, jumped out of the vehicle, and started to run.

She breathed heavily for a minute. The last time she saw Nick this angry was during the 'reverse forensics' case, and even then he'd kept his temper under control. Then there was the incident with the fourteen year old that resulted in him telling one of his deepest secrets.

Once Catherine felt her heart settle down she made her way back over to Nick's house where he sat on the stoop cuddling the orange kitten he held in his lap.

Carefully, she walked over to the man who stroked the cat's head, his hand so huge the kitten almost disappeared into the palm.

"Nick." She knelt down in front of him. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry Catherine, I just…I can't go back there.

I was locked in the library. It was pretty unsettling."

"Is that all?" she asked, moving a strand of blonde hair out of her face.

"Yeah, what else is there?" he said, still focused on the kitten.

"There were two prisoners loose. Did you see one of them?"

"No," Nick answered shortly.

Catherine stared at Nick in disbelief but wisely decided not to push it.

"Okay. I'll have Warrick finish the scene and then you can assist him at the lab and I'll put Greg on another case. Does that work for you?"

Nick smiled in relief. "I'd appreciate that, Catherine."

"Thanks." Then she smiled as the kitten licked Nick's fingers and began gnawing on his college ring.

"If I didn't know better," she said, stroking its little head and finding her own fingers were now prey, "I'd think this little guy prefers you over that crazy cat lady."

Nick laughed softly and petted him, "Well he can hang out for a while I guess. I don't think anyone is going to miss him over there."

"Animals are great for reducing stress, Nick, and cats are pretty easy to look after," Catherine said. "And Lindsay could help you out if you're doing a long shift if you throw a few bucks her way."

"Yeah, I could see that." Nick picked up the kitten and stared into its eyes, smiling as the kitten reached out and swatted his nose. Laughing softly, he cradled the little guy who stared up at Nick adoringly.

Catherine folded her arms and watched the sight unfold before her. It was a treat to see this tender side of Nick, one she didn't get to see often given the nature of their profession. Animals and kids always found away into the crusty Texan's heart. Hell, there was nothing sexier in fact than a man cuddling a cute little animal. If she didn't worry about Nick's reaction, she'd take a picture of this sight for the all the ladies in the Crime Lab to see, particularly Sofia who had harboured a crush on Nick for some time now but ruled against it because of well…Catherine wasn't really sure of the reason, but she did encourage the blue eyed girl to ask the brown eyed boy out.

"Get some rest Nick. You've got a long shift ahead of you. And as a treat I'll get Lindsay and we'll bring some kitty stuff over for you."

Nick held the kitten close to him enjoying the vibration coming from its soft body.

"Thanks Catherine. I appreciate everything you've done," he mumbled. "And...I'm...sorry...about what happened back there…I don't know..."

His voice trailed off as he went back to giving the kitten a little TLC, the kind that the lab girls would like to get from the good-looking Texan.

"You owe me, Nicky!" Catherine smiled, reaching out to scratch the kitten behind the ears who responded with big blue eyes that immediately went back to Nick, staring him with absolute worship.

"Yeah I do." He tickled the kittens belly and was reciprocated with more bites and hind legs kicks.

"I'll see you at work tomorrow, Nick." Catherine said softly. She tried to touch his hair out of sheer comfort, but he backed away, eyes black like a kicked dog.

He looked down at the kitten and mumbled, "Yeah Cath, thanks."

As Catherine drove off, she started to wonder about Nick's behaviour and then finally concluded stress and illness could do that to a man.

Nick walked into the house carrying the kitten when he heard a raspy voice.

"You want to keep that one?"

He turned and saw Mrs. Matthews sitting on the stoop smoking a cigarette.

"If that's okay?" He asked hoping she'd say yes. The little furball had grown on him.

She blew out a puff of smoke and nodded. "He's a strange one. He acts kind of like a guard dog. Especially with you. He sits on your stoop every day and hisses at anyone that comes near your house."

Nick looked at the cat strangely. "This guy?" The cat looked up at Nick with almost a godlike worship.

"Yeah that one," she answered, pulling a ratty blue sweatshirt closer to her. "But cats pick their owners, not the other way around. So he picked you. Remember that."

The Texan nodded. "Thanks."

As Nick looked around the house for what would suffice as a litter box, he noticed the kitten sitting at the window when a small growl came out of its throat.

Curious, Nick peered through the Venetian blinds and saw someone walking by… a bulky man, hands shoved into his pockets, longish hair with a bald spot.

He looked at the kitten who wouldn't take his eyes off the man.

"Well, even if that guy was gonna get me you're kind of small so you wouldn't be much help."

The kitten jumped onto Nick's shoulder and started to lick his ear.

"Hey okay, get down. Yeah I know you love me. I don't know why. I don't care for cats and all the hair you're gonna get on me." He pulled the kitten off his shoulder and set it down.

The door knocked and Nick jumped nervously and panicked. He crouched towards it and looked through the peephole.

Mrs. Matthews stood there, cigarette dangling out of her mouth, carrying a bag of what Nick assumed was litter and cat food.

He opened the door.

"Here, thought you'd need this." She held the bags out to him. "Don't worry about payin' me, I got plenty of catfood and litter at home."

Nick took them, staring at her, confused. "Thanks, Mrs. Matthews. And if you ever need anything, let me know."

She nodded and walked off the porch saying, "Don't worry, I'll let you know."

After setting everything up for the yet-to-be-named kitten, Nick sat down at his computer and checked his email.

He smiled as he saw the one he'd been waiting for.

_Hi Nick:_

_Yeah I can get that info for you. Just give me the names and I'll get right on it. I'll tell you where to meet and how much it's gonna cost you._

Nick thumped the air with his fist.

Tomorrow he'd slip a DNA kit out of the lab. He'd take a swab from his clothing and bring it back and have Mandy run it for him with the promise of dinner and movie if she was quiet about it

After he had the results, he'd send the names off to his contact in Corrections and then plans would be made.

Feeling the heavy cloud lift somewhat, Nick flipped on the movie channel and Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street was on. The kitten immediately jumped into his lap and after some nibbling on his square chin, he settled into Nick's lap for a nap.

Nick smiled and turned his attention to the movie. Johnny Depp was standing on a boat singing mournfully about his life to a young sailor.

The Texan remembered acting in this play in high school as a Freshman to earn a credit. He sang in the chorus because his singing voice was nothing to brag about, and then wound up in the chair to be murdered. He remembered the bump on his head he got when he slid off the chair and landed below the stage, cracking his head on the floor.

Nick always thought of Sweeney as a psychopath, but now he understood the man as Johnny Depp sang:

_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit _

_And it's filled with people who are filled with shit._

_And the vermin of the world inhabit it._

_But not for long_...

And that's how Nick felt. The world is full of vermin who rape and murder whenever they get the chance and don't give a damn about who their victim is and how much they hurt the people. He tried to empathetic to criminals, he really did, but after all empathy runs dry and is replaced by something more insidious that would love nothing more to get rid of the 'vermin' of humanity. He met so many criminals, so people who just went in the wrong direction. But there seemed to be more of them then the good guys.

Time for two of them to be 'taken care of'.


	4. Chapter 4

**IRREVERSIBLE**

CHAPTER FOUR

I can taste the fear  
Gonna lift me up and take me out of here  
Don't wanna fight, don't wanna die  
Just wanna hear you cry

-Intervention by Arcade Fire

_I know the pace is slow, but it will be worth it._

_Thanks again to Smokey for her quick beta!_

The next few weeks were a blur as he numbly fell into a routine of work and sleep, work and sleep. When he wasn't at the lab, Nick was curled into a ball in his bed with the kitten he now named George crawled up next to him, every so often biting his long nose, his toes, or anything else that the creature could get his teeth into.

George did seem like a strange name for a cat. Nick had planned to call it 'Cat' because as far as he was concerned cats don't come when you call anyway so why call them anything? Then Lindsay told him that he had absolutely no imagination whatsoever-emphasis on the 'ever'. So the Texan decided to name it after some actor on a crime show he watched and laughed at it for its dramatization of criminalists. Everyone at the lab went on and on about how Nick looked like this 'George' guy, so Nick decided George would be the cat's name.

"_I don't look like that guy!" Nick whined._

"_Yeah, they keep telling me I look like the black guy!" Warrick complained. "I don't look anything like him."_

"_No, he's better looking than you." _

"_You want me to knock that big chin of yours and go night night?"_

Nick went into the kitchen to give George his breakfast. On Hodges' suggestion, he had visited a local pet store that sold organic pet food. After reading the label on both the dry and wet food, Nick concluded that his cat was eating better then he was. Oh well.

In addition, Nick had also purchased anti-bacterial spray to wipe down his counters after he caught George walking on his kitchen counter one day and squeamishly thought about the 'potty' paws that were on them. Then he bought some anti-bacterial Febreeze for his rug and furniture.

_xxXXxx_

He couldn't move and he couldn't breathe and something was sitting on his chest, yet Nick could hear the new alarm clock on his cell phone going off, and he could hear the soft purring of George.

"Oh fuck, I'm dying! I'm dying," Nick thought frantically as he struggled to move. "I'm trapped."

He looked up and saw one of them, dressed in prison gear, sitting on his chest smiling down on him menacingly. "Oh look here. It's the judge's son!"

Then he was gone.

Nick felt a tingling sensation starting in his toes and fingers, and he was able to move them. Then he could move his arms and legs, and he was breathing normally again.

He slowly sat up and looked around. George was rubbing against his arm wanting breakfast and the alarm was beeping softly, unlike the alarm clock which had a piercing beep to it.

Rubbing his hair, Nick couldn't figure out what just happened. What the hell was that he experienced?

About two weeks ago he had taken the last of the Trazadone, and he was trying to make a go of it. He expected the nightmares, and they drained him.

But why was his mind awake before his body?

Never mind. He had to get to work.

He went into the bathroom and looked himself over in the full length mirror. His bruises were healing nicely as a result of a concoction of vitamin E ointment and Cortisone to speed things up on his wrists, face, and other areas he dare not mention. The bruise he was hiding with tanning cream on the side of his face was now beginning to fade.

He had noticed after the attack that there was a small round bruise on his temple where his Glock had been pressed. It was now hardly noticeable.

When he could stand it, he managed to look at his body and could see bruises from the chair he tripped over when they dragged him over to the table.

Physically he felt well, almost fine, but he noticed some pain in his side every so often, and he felt tired all the time. He figured that it was caused by nightmares…nightmares that had him waking up clammy and just plain gross, and now this strange hallucination.

Nightmares that resulted in biweekly purchases of anti-bacterial soap to keep up with the showers, and then he was buying expensive moisturizers to soothe his dry skin. His water bill shot up.

Mentally…he knew that area wasn't going so well, and the broken alarm clock in the bedroom was proof.

All the emotions he felt swirled into one: Rage.

So the Texan decided it was time to move on to a new routine and hit his favourite place-the gym.

He went to work out before work at Gold's 24 hour gym where he worked up a sweat pumping his adrenaline to the max while jogging on the treadmill, listening to White Stripes on his iPod, his first set of earphones long chewed, so he was on his third.

Nick noticed then that someone was staring at him. He looked over and saw a blonde, muscled man smiling at him in a not so subtle way.

_What the fuck? Am I wearing what happened on my forehead?_

Abruptly, Nick stopped the treadmill, wiped it down, and took off for the change room. He didn't even bother to shower. He grabbed his clothes out of the locker, stuffed them into his Nike gym bag, and raced out so fast he almost knocked over a young woman checking him out.

When he got to the lab he breezed by everyone, ran into the change room, and showered.

Leaning against his arm in the stall, he tried to push away dark thoughts such as putting the Glock in his mouth as Walter Gordon so beckoned.

"_You lovin' this ain't you..."_

Nick knew that a few months ago a knowing stare like that would not have bothered him. He was very solid in his sexuality, that being a full fledged heterosexual. So a stare like that he took in stride. It was no big deal. The guy didn't know he was heterosexual. Some gays have a gay-dar that points in the wrong direction.

But the last episode had rocked his identity to the core, and now he didn't know who he was.

"_Got some blood here, this is his first time."_

He shot up straight and turned off the off the faucet, dried himself off, and changed back into his clothes.

"Well, I guess we've become a ghost walker?" a voice greeted him.

Catherine Willows stood in front of him in a pink tight-fitting blouse and black dress pants.

"Just been busy," Nick mumbled as he opened his locker.

"You've been pretty quiet, Nick, since you came back," she remarked, standing there with a folder in her hands. "Everything okay?"

Nick nodded as he set everything into his locker.

"Clothes are kind of wrinkled," she observed.

"Yeah, I kind of shoved them into my bag when I left the gym. Why?"

"No reason. I don't think you've ever come in with wrinkled clothes."

"Want me to change then?" he asked testily.

"No." Catherine shook her head, confused. "I don't care how you dress, Nick. You could work here naked for all I care, although I'm sure many of the other women here would enjoy it. I for one wouldn't mind." She smiled flirtatiously at him.

Nick smiled at her, "Yeah, I'm sure they would."

"Some of the men too," she added.

Nick's smile dropped like a rock, and he turned to get ready for his shift.

Catherine studied Nick. He had been out of sorts, but that was typical Nick. The guy had been through a lot, and she wasn't fooled by his happy-go-lucky demeanor, but she knew that there'd been some sleepless nights for him.

"What's going on, Nick?" she asked as she sat on the bench.

"Nothing," he said, pulling his forensics vest on before turning to her. "It's just that I 'm starting to see why Sara left."

Catherine eyed him. "So this is about Sara?"

"No. It's about how she felt about things before she left. That no matter how hard we try, the bad guys are always winning," Nick said as he got out his baseball cap. "I mean, I just don't know how much I can take of this myself. Everywhere I look bad things are happening to adults, to children, hell even to animals."

Catherine knew the dog-fighting case had shaken him up. Despite his tough guy demeanor, underneath Nick Stokes was all heart and a big softy when it came to animals. Hell, at times she thought Nick would rather have a house full of furry creatures than a wife.

"And," Nick continued on, "the people that we hire to look after these bastards when they get the sentences they deserve… well, they decide that a few extra bucks in their pay is worth putting the rest of us at risk."

Catherine looked at Nick's face. His eyes were looking as if he was deep in thought, while his voice seemed to be tightening.

"I know that must have been pretty freaky at the prison, Nick, but you were okay. Weren't you, Nick?" she asked.

He nodded quickly. "Oh yeah. I did some thinking in that library. Darkness does that to you, you know." Then he flashed Catherine a 400 watt smile before heading out the door. "See ya!"

Catherine watched him leave, unnerved about the sudden mood change from somber to chipper and then headed over to Grissom's office to discuss whether Nick needed to have another therapy session. After he was buried alive, he had attended the mandatory sessions with the department psychologist, but it was mandatory so getting Nick to comply was easy. This time it would be voluntary, and that would take some teamwork to get him to go.

Grissom was engrossed in an article about the crocodile hunter, Steve Irwin, and his work with tarantulas when he heard a rap at his door.

"Come in," he replied absently, too absorbed in his magazine to even gather who'd come in.

"Grissom, I'm concerned about Nick," she said as she helped herself to a seat.

"What about him?" he answered, magazine still in full view.

Catherine snatched it out his hands, glaring, much to his surprise.

"Have you noticed since the near riot at the prison that his behavior has changed?"

"Well, he's been quieter. But he was sick there for about a week, and that probably took a lot out of him," Grissom said, grabbing his beloved magazine back, annoyed at the disruption.

Catherine folded her arms and then looked at her boss. "No, something's off."

Grissom shrugged. "Well, I don't tend to pry into my staff's private lives."

"Well, he's also our friend," she said. "I mean, I know you look at him as some sort of black sheep in our family…"

Grissom scoffed, "I don't."

"You do! You always have, Grissom. You've never been comfortable around Nick. He's the emotional foible to your Mr. Spock-like demeanor." She stood there tapping her foot.

"Catherine, c'mon. I care about Nick as much as anyone here."

"With all due respect, Gil, you've been pretty self-absorbed since Sara left," Catherine said. "I think it's time you get your shit together and try to help out Nick. He's as much a part of our family as Sara was!"

Grissom sighed heavily. "Where is he?"

"He's gone over to a breaking and entering at a vet clinic."

"Well, I guess I could join him."

Catherine mulled it over. Nick and Grissom were oil and water. Perhaps going to Gil was a bad idea, but then again at least she'd given the personality-of-a-bug a head's up on his CSI, as little as it appeared that he cared.

She never, ever understood the dichotomy of their relationship. All the blonde criminalist knew was that when it came to Nick Grissom had made himself unavailable, too caught up in his relationship with Sara and trying to appease himself to Mr. Cool himself, Warrick, when he wasn't trying to save his ass from gambling.

So that left her to pick up the slack and provide Nick with that much needed leadership and much needed guidance. It was a good thing though; Catherine had given Nick the proverbial kick in the ass he needed to stop appeasing himself to someone who didn't want to be appeased and to simply start doing the job himself.

It was after the 'murder central' incident that Nick appeared to finally take her advice and become the phenomenal CSI that he was. However, after the burial ordeal Catherine wondered if that phase was short-lived. Much to her delight, it wasn't. In fact, it became the catalyst to who he was today - one of the finest CSIs in the lab. The past two years had seen Nick earning astronomically good marks on his evaluations, a far cry from the 'silk, silk, silk' days. Even Grissom himself was amazed. Nick was also well respected by Ecklie and even the sheriff.

Catherine bit her bottom lip as she watched Grissom stand up and reluctantly put the magazine away.

No, it was probably best that she talk to Nick. She had a way of getting through to him that no one else did.

"Cancel that. I'll go and see what's up. Your being there might make him suspicious." She stood up. "Just thought I'd give you a heads up, Gil, so you can go back and look at that magazine while one of our guys struggles with whatever is going on."

Grissom sighed heavily and flopped into his chair. He was about to counteract that statement, but Catherine had strolled out.

By the time she got to the scene, Nick had already pulled away with the evidence.

She walked over to Sofia who was packing up and ready to go.

"How's Nick doing?"

Sofia shrugged. "Okay. Quiet. Pensive." she replied, her blue eyes disappointed as she had been trying to work up the courage to ask Nick on a date. Obviously his somber mood had changed that plan.

Placing a hand on her hip, Catherine said, "I'm gonna try and..."

Sofia pointed. "Isn't that...isn't that bagged evidence?"

Catherine turned and saw the yellow striped bag filled with dead fish and sand from a broken fish tank."

She walked over to it, picked it up, and turned to Sofia. "His initials are on it. That's very unlike Nick to forget evidence at a crime scene."

Sofia grimaced. "Shit!"

"It's not a big deal. I'll get it back to the lab. I'll call him on the way there and have him meet me there so the chain isn't broken."

Nick was driving aimlessly when he realized he was going in the wrong direction.

He heard his cell phone ring, glanced and saw that it was Catherine and answered it. "Yeah, Cat!"

"Nick, you forgot some evidence at the vet clinic."

"I what?"

"You heard me."

Nick gripped the steering wheel in frustration and simply said, "FUCK!"

"Look, just meet me at the lab. Where are you?"

"Near your dad's hotel."

"What are you doing there?!"

"I don't know. I'm off today. I'm sorry, Cat. I'll turn and get back to the lab."

"Just stay in the parking lot and pretend to be doing something until I get there, okay? I'll cover your ass this time."

"_Sweet looking…"_

Nick snapped out of it and gave a gruff response before hanging up.

xxXXxx

Catherine helped Nick check the evidence in at the lab. While filling out the forms, she said, "Nick, it's okay. We all fuck up at crime scenes. We're humans, not robots." Given the circumstances, she stalled the heart to heart she was planning to have with him.

"Yeah," he said blankly. "I'm just tired, Catherine."

She looked at him as his brown eyes stared back at her puppy-like.

"I'm not going to say anything, and I've asked Sofia to speak to the guys at the scene."

"Thanks." He smiled at her. "You're the best, Catherine."

She gave him a playful punch. "For you Nick, anything."

Then, figuring Sofia was not going to do it, she took the step. "You know Nick, I know the policy about workplace dating and your stand…"

He looked at her in shock. "Are you asking me on a date?!"

"No! That would be…creepy, Nick. You're kind of a like a..."

"A son." He smiled at her teasingly.

"Watch it!" she warned.

Nick laughed softly as he clipped the papers together.

"I'm talking about Sofia!"

His eyebrows knitted together. "Sofia Curtis?"

"No, wiseass, Sofia Loren!"

"She's pretty hot for an old lady!"

"Sofia's your age!"

"I'm talking about the actress."

"Okay. Well have you thought about asking Sofia Curtis out?"

"I don't know, Catherine. I'm not really in the mood for dating these days."

"Guess that porn collection is serving you well."

Nick guffed, "No, I just…I'm not interested in seeing anyone, Catherine. I've got some stuff to work out."

"Can't be a bachelor forever, Nicky."

"Not saying that, Catherine. I've just got some things to work through before I can commit to anyone."

"Yeah, those twenty-somethings are keeping you busy, right?" Catherine asked pointedly.

Nick grumbled something about his private life being on display again and said, "I'm...she...was...just a...fling. Nothing more then that...just a fling!"

"Flavour of the moment?"

"Yeah that's one way of putting it." Nick smiled gratefully at Catherine. "Thanks again."

"I've always got your back, Nick," she said. "Don't worry about this."

He smiled, went back to the locker room, and was just pulling his leather coat out of the locker when a voice piped up.

"Well, I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for that nice flu you brought into the lab."

Nick looked up and saw Grissom standing there.

"Grissom, I'm just on my way home."

Nick slammed the locker, but the bugman stayed where he was.

"I hear you had an ordeal at the prison."

"Yeah, but it was okay," Nick answered shortly, closing the locker.

"Well it seems you haven't been your usual self."

"I've been sick," Nick laughed.

A pregnant pause ensued before the entomologist asked, "Nick, did something happen at the prison that we should know about?"

Nick sat down on the bench, wincing a bit, and began to tie his shoes. He was always lace-challenged. Even as a kid his shoes would come untied at the slightest movement. His mother was always on his case about making sure they were double-knotted.

"No, nothing happened, Grissom. I was locked in the library for I'm not sure how long without anyone watching me, so it was kind of unnerving, but thank God for old _Sports Illustrated_. Grissom, do you have Sara's e-mail on you? I mean, would you be okay if I e-mailed her?" Nick looked up, asking nervously.

Grissom shrugged. "Be my guest. She might like to hear from someone else at the lab besides me. It's ."

Nick grabbed a pen and paper out of his locker, wrote it down, and thanked Grissom for it before shoving it into his wallet.

Grissom watched Nick for a second, noticing the wince. Nothing escaped his eagle eyes. For the past few weeks the man had not so much as looked at him. He was quiet, pensive, and a bit jumpy.

He'd seen Nick like this a couple of times before. The first time when Amy Hendler pulled the gun on him; the second when Nigel Crane stalked him; the third and probably the worst was when he was buried alive. It was months before Grissom could walk up to him and not startle the man.

If something happened to Nick at the prison, he was not saying.

xxXXxx

On the way home, his cell phone rang. It was the nurse from the doctor's office.

"I just wanted to let you know that your test results are in. You can pop by, and I can give them to you."

Nick sighed nervously, and then she said, "I can't tell you over the phone, but I will tell you that if it were bad news the doctor would want to see you himself."

Smiling, Nick answered, "Yeah. Thanks."

At the office an older woman with long brown hair done up in a bun met him in a small room which held a desk, some flyers about AIDS awareness and prevention, and a chair.

"Negative." She smiled warmly at him.

Nick breathed a sigh of relief as she continued. "Now, you do need to come back in three months, then six, then one year."

"Yeah. I know. I know." Nick said as he ran his sweaty palms over his jeans.

On the way home, the Texan listened to U2 singing "It's a Beautiful Day" and felt the happiness of the song merge with his soul. Maybe God was finally smiling on him.

But as Nick pulled into his driveway, he was surprised to see a familiar grey Mercedes Benz.

Pamela Stanford, 22, body like an athlete and enough confidence to exude 20 women stood beside the car, dressed in her tight-as-tight jeans, her hair cut into a bob hovering playfully around her defined chin, shades covering her wide-brown eyes.

Nick wasn't aware that she was here in Vegas.

"Hey baby!" she said as she walked up to kiss him, startled by his cold response as Nick held her back.

"What are you doing here?" Nick asked keeping his voice controled.

She laughed in surprise. "I sent you an e-mail. Remember? I was popping by for a few days."

Nick looked at her suspiciously. "When did you send it?"

"Like a few days ago!" she giggled.

Nick shook his head, "I don't remember."

Smacking her gum, she eyed him, annoyed.

"Well, I can leave," she said, opening her car door.

"No, no!" Nick said, putting his hand on the door. "I've been sick with the flu. You don't have to go."

Nick helped her get her Dolce and Cabana leather bag out of the back seat and helped her into the house.

George hissed at the sight of her.

She wrinkled her nose at the sight of his living room and its sports-adorned, science-oriented décor.

"You're an odd duck, Nick!" she claimed as she set her bag on the table.

"Why?" he asked.

"I mean you're one part jock, one part scientist," she said, her hands on her hips.

"Really," he said, nodding. "Which part do you like?"

She smiled devilishly and asked, "Why, which way to your boudoir, Monsieur Stokes?"

Only 45 minutes later it was over and Nick was sitting in his bed, naked as the day his mamma gave birth to him.

He felt the bed jostling a bit as Pamela slid her pink thong back on.

Neither of them said anything to each other. The air was filled with a tension you could cut with a plastic butter knife.

Pulling the covers over himself, Nick simply watched the digital clock beside his bed and wished like hell she would hurry up and dress and be out the door as fast as she came.

He wasn't mad that she came, he just wasn't big on surprises.

"Well," she said as she pulled on her skinny jeans and lay back down to button them. "That was not worth the trip to Vegas. I knew you weren't happy about me being here, but did it have to go to that extent?"

She folded her arms at him and sulked.

Nick looked at her dully. "It's not you."

"Of course not," she said, annoyed. "I've never had that happen to me, so it's you. I don't know, maybe it's your age, Nick. You're what… 31?"

"36." Nick fingered the comforter wishing she would just be done with whatever she had to say and leave. He then felt a bit embarrassed about his nudity and brought the comforter up higher.

"Well, men do start to go downhill at that age."

"Whatever!" Nick snapped, biting his tongue so he wouldn't say something he would regret.

She snapped her miniscule bra.

Pulling some gum out of his side table, he inserted a piece into his mouth and picked up George who hissed at Pamela. "You kind of surprised me, and I haven't been feeling good for a few weeks."

"Uh huh!" She pulled on her high heeled boots.

Without another word she finished dressing and strolled out of his bedroom, out of his house, and out of his life.

Nick knew he should feel really upset, but truth was he was glad. What the hell was he doing with a 22 year old anyway? She could be his daughter had he followed some more rural background traditions and married at 14.

Oh, but she would fun to show off to his friends…an old fart like him with a hot bod of a twenty-year-old.

It wasn't her leaving that bothered him; it was what happened before she left.

He got his mind in the game, but the anatomy decided to stay in the bleachers.

Then when she tried to go down on him to encourage things, he shoved her away roughly and that was that.

The thought of anyone having any access to his anatomy freaked the hell out of him. It was like a part of his brain screamed "STOP" while the other screamed "GO" and well, a collision course occurred that sent her packing.

Perhaps there was a roadblock between the most sexual part of the body, the brain, and the other most sexual and best part of him (or so he thought and had been told, not that he was bragging, of course)?

Sighing, Nick reached for some black boxers and slid them on. His laundry was piling up, but he wasn't in the mood for throwing stuff in the machine.

No, he had other ideas for fun.

He looked at George who had grabbed one of his socks and started to run out the bedroom door with it.

Nick watched the kitten for a second, shrugged, and went to his drawer to pull another pair out. Let George have his fun.

As Stephen Colbert wagged his finger touting today's 'The Word', Nick grabbed his laptop and began to do a search. Every so often he laughed at the pseudo right wing commentator's pseudo right wing trumping of American politics. What was the word today? By the time Nick looked up the segment was over.

With his password, he connected to the LVPD database which eventually led him to a prisoner data base.

He was looking for them…the southern one. Besides Nick, there weren't that many southerners in Vegas. He narrowed down his search to prisoners from Southern states.

"_You know what they say, save a horse, ride a cowboy!" _

Nick winced and continued looking with one goal in mind…payback.

Some way or another, that person was going to pay.

All his life Nick was a forgiver, a man who turned the other cheek. But his dad once said that one only had so many cheeks to turn and then it was time to fight back.

Kelly Gordon

Walter Gordon

Nigel Crane

Amy Hendler

Now, he could forgive them because they were victimized in their own way. Nigel was a lost soul who needed some identity; the Gordons were presumably screwed over by the legal system; and Amy Hendler's husband was a two-timing asshole. Somehow Nick found himself caught up in their need to for vengeance. Just his dumb luck, he guessed.

And in some ways, Nick could now relate to them. He was simply doing his job when two S.O.B.s attacked him in such a perverse way that even he couldn't comprehend.

Nick could never in life understand the motivation for sexually assaulting someone, other than power. These pervs needed power over someone.

Being considered the 'weaker' members of society, women and children were easy to feel sorry for when this 'thing' occurred to them. 'Weaker' in a pejorative sense, given that Nick worked with a few women who could easily kick his ass. Hell, even some three- year-olds could give a good kick in the nuts given half the chance.

But society held them as 'weaker' then men.

And as a man, Nick knew that if the truth was revealed it would be different. Nobody would look at him the same way again. He'd be seen as less of a man, a weakling, hell possibly gay, which was the least of his worries since he'd never concerned himself about his sexuality.

No, it was the perception that he was weak that worried him most. Nick knew he wasn't weak, but enough was enough.

Like the Gordons, the Cranes, and the Hendlers, society wouldn't help him, nor would the justice system.

And like them, he would have to take matters into his own hands.

xxXXxx

It was amazing how time flew when one got their head wrapped up in work.

And side projects.

Using his resources, Nick had tracked down the name of his attackers.

John McVeigh. That name rang a bell. The info, delivered straight to Nick's door, was thick, so he quickly looked through the smaller file first before going to whom he believed was the leader.

Charles Smith, Jon McVeigh's partner, was familiar. Nick remembered him from a few years back through a case he'd worked on with Warrick.

Figures he'd share the name of a fucking terrorist.

Mandy was a trooper and gave him the DNA results which gave him names, and then with names came info.

Nick had asked if she wanted to go to dinner "as friends" and that brought somewhat of a disappointed look. Then she told him to take her bowling, and they called it even.

"Oh Mandy, you can do better than that!" he whined as the ball rolled into the gully.

"Oh shove it, dude, or I'll make you stand on that table and sing to me again," she said as Nick admired her clothing choice. Dark blue jeans with a blue floral empire shirt that all the girls seemed to be into these days, making them look kind of pregnant. Her hair was down and hung playfully around her shoulders, and she wore contacts, causing Nick to notice her beautiful brown eyes for the first time. They were full of sweetness, energy, and optimism, contrasting his own eyes which were dark with an Edgar Allan Poe quality about them.

_Once I wandered weak and weary._

Surprisingly, Nick was enjoying himself. He'd dreaded this part of the deal as he always thought of Mandy as some kind of goofy chick that would be 'one of the guys' and not a choice of women he'd go out with. Although his last choice didn't work out, so maybe it was time to re-examine his tastes a bit.

Okay, wait a minute. Mandy? She was a colleague. Nick proverbially kicked himself for forgetting. But he was having a good time for a change.

"Okay, dude. You wanna show me what you got, or am I gonna get up on the table and announce that you will be trying out for American Idol with a rendition of my song's namesake?"

Nick laughed heartily. Man, he was having fun for the first time in weeks! He momentarily almost forgot what happened.

Then he caught some guy checking him it out. Nick was used to that. It didn't bother him.

Until now.

Sweat brewed under his cotton t-shirt, and he turned his attention back to Mandy who cracked another joke, causing him to laugh. Then he asked if they could call a night.

Mandy smiled and nodded that that was fine. "It's good to see you laugh, Nick."

"What, I'm not that much of a grump, am I?" he asked as she bought them some Cokes on the way out.

She looked at him incredulously. "Seriously? Yeah, you have been. I mean, you've just not been your normal self. But don't worry about it. I'm used to it. It's just who you are, Nick."

Nick raised his eyebrows and shrugged. That was a rather good answer.

They chatted a bit as she drove him home. His truck was on the blink again. So she accepted his offer of gas money.

"I hear Sofia Curtis is thinking of asking you out." Mandy smiled as she turned on the radio…an organ with a guy singing.

_The organ played on and on in the other room, maybe he had died on gone to heaven, anything to escape the pain._

Nick took a deep breath and broached her with another subject. "What song is this?"

"Oh, it's called "Intervention" by Arcade Fire, some Canadian indie music group. Sara told me about them before she left. It's nice music."

Nick caught a few lines and although he wasn't sure of the context it was in, he liked it.

"Kind of sad though. Anyway, so what about you and Sofia?"

"Yeah," Nick answered. "Well, I'm still waiting. Whether I say yes or no is another subject."

"Really? All the guys want her."

"Yeah, so?" Nick asked. "I'm sure a lot of guys like you."

"Yeah right. Losers…desperados…" she mumbled and then went on to ask, "What is it about these skinny blondes, Nick, that you men like?"

"I don't know."

"Oh that's a good one coming from Mr. Dating-a-12-year-old-from-Reno."

"She's history, Mandy. Really. She is." Nick looked at her as her face scrunched up in confusion.

"That didn't last."

"And if you have to know, I don't always go for the skinny blondes, Mandy. It's the heart that counts."

"That's what they all say," she said dully.

"Well," Nick said, "if it makes you feel better, I'm not seeing anyone these days and that's just the way it's going to be for me."

Mandy laughed incredulously. "Oh please. You're the proverbial ladies' man."

"Oh yeah. Right. I just got dumped so I'm doin' real well," Nick drawled.

"Oh. She dumped you. Too old for her likin'."

"Yeah. You could say that."

"Well, I think men get sexier as they age." Mandy smiled at him.

"Yeah," Nick said, "well as soon as I hear one of Sam Braun's friends is looking, I'll let you know."

"Oh funny, Nick. You're a real comedian."

She dropped him off at home.

"Do you want to meet George?" he asked before opening the door, not sure why he asked the question.

Mandy looked at him. "Who?"

"George."

"Who's George?"

"Well, come with me and meet him."

George sat on the stoop waiting for him, tail flicking back and forth as he sensed a stranger's presence.

Mandy cried, "Oh my god! I didn't know you had a cat."

Nick looked at her alarmed. "Is that okay? I mean, are you allergic?"

"Oh god no. I never pictured you as a cat owner. You always struck me as a horse or dog guy," Mandy said as she sat down on the stoop and gathered George into her arms. The cat readily accepted the cuddle.

Nick watched them together. Animals were indicators of people's personality. George hated Pamela the moment he saw her and vice versa, but the kitty loved Mandy to bits and curled comfortably into her lap.

"He's adorable Nick." Mandy looked up and smiled at him.

_She is kind of cute._

_But she works with me._

_Well, I can change my mind._

"Why are you looking at me like that Nick?" Mandy asked.

"Like what?"

"Like, I don't know, you just realized I'm here." Mandy had worn contacts tonight.

"Oh I'm just...I don't know. Ignore me."

"Kind of hard to do, Nick."

"Yeah, I'm a beacon."

She stood up and shook his hand. "Thanks Nick. I appreciate it."

"No, I appreciate your help."

"What do you want to know about this guy McVeigh? Maybe I can help find more info."

"Well, you can, but don't get in trouble over it."

"No, don't worry. I can do it on the side. I have friends who work in labs in other parts of town. So I owe them as well. That's how I got the results."

Nick shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled, embarrassed.

Mandy asked, "Can I give you a hug?"

"Uh…yeah.."

It was a quick one, almost like a brotherly one.

To Nick's surprise, it wasn't so bad. It was as if Mandy on some cognitive level recognized his new boundary and respected it.

Nick stood up abruptly. "I gotta get in and get to bed."

Mandy looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Nick, if that made you uncomfortable."

"Oh god no. It's…I'm…tired." He smiled sympathetically. "Thanks, Mandy. I had a lot of fun tonight, probably the most in weeks."

She looked relieved. "So did I. You know we should all do this sometime…the lab, the CSIs."

"Yeah…group bowling," Nick mumbled. "Sounds like a blast."

She walked away and waved slightly at him as he stood on the porch with George curled in his arms.

"That's a picture worth taking. Can I take it with my cell?"

"No," Nick answered. "I don't want it going around the lab."

"I wouldn't do that, Nick, but fair enough."

In the house, Nick set George on the floor and walked over to pull a Coors out of his fridge and went to his computer to check on some e-mails.

Then he remembered Sara's e-mail address and pulled it out of his wallet.

Alcohol had a way of stirring emotions, deep-seated ones, and Nick began to write an e-mail to her.

He hadn't intended to tell anyone, but somehow writing to her helped.

It wasn't a gory e-mail, but in a round-about way he told her what happened.

_I didn't see them coming, Sara. I didn't even know they were in the library._

A lump formed in his throat as he typed.

_I hate looking in the mirror at myself. Every day I think about putting the gun in my mouth and pulling the trigger and then decide that you'd hate me if I did._

Nick then noticed the tears.

_I'm sorry I had to lay this on you. I don't know what else to do. I want to put it behind, but I want them to pay for what they did._

_Please don't tell Grissom. Promise me you won't tell him anything about this. I can barely face the team as it is. If he knows, I'd have to quit and leave town._

_Maybe that's what I should do anyway._

_I hope you're doing well. I miss you on the team. It's not the same without you._

_Take care,_

_Nick_

When he was done typing, Nick realized why a lot of people journal. There was something cathartic about telling Sara.

He knew she would never say anything to Grissom; at least he prayed that she wouldn't.

Nick read the e-mail again, and something about seeing what happened to him in words hit him and he started to heave again. His chest was tightening…his breathing sporadic.

Was he having a heart attack? Pamela's cruel remarks about his age (he was only 36 for crying out loud!) came back.

Of course, stress has a way of weakening the heart, and certainly Nick had his share of it. But he was good shape, so that wasn't it.

His therapist had told him to try to self-talk through a panic attack. So he told himself repeatedly that he was okay, everything was okay. He was in his own house with a high tech alarm system and a watch dog of a cat.

The last bit of self-talk made him laugh.

He crawled over to the couch and worked to control his breathing.

"_Sweet jesus ain't he a pretty one."_

Nick gritted his teeth and clamped his hands over his ears, earnestly shaking the voice from his head.

He felt soft warmth on his lap and a little wet nose on his elbow, and he looked down to see George had trotted over and crawled into his lap. The morning routine was replayed as the kitten purred into his ear before playfully licking it.

Nick held his soft buddy, feeling the vibrations.

"You can read my mind, can't you little man?" he asked the kitten whose blue eyes held him in utter worship.

Who said cats were the ones to be worshipped? This little guy worshipped him.

Once his composure was regained, Nick went back to the computer, sat down, grabbed the mouse, and clicked.

SEND.


	5. Chapter 5

Irreversible

Chapter Five

My body is a cage  
We take what we're given  
Just because you've forgotten  
That don't mean you're forgiven

My Body is a Cage-Arcade Fire

_Thanks to Smokey for her edits!_

"You guys didn't get much from the prison, did you?" Warrick asked as he examined what little evidence Nick and Greg had collected, which consisted of a chair, photos of blood splatter, and nothing else.

"No, we didn't," was all the answer Greg could give. "And when we went back to the office, there wasn't much there. And to top it all off, the security cameras were malfunctioning that day."

"Happenstance," Grissom answered.

"Exactly."

The three were in the layout room, evidence laid out on the table and Conrad Noir's picture on the board.

"Well, the guards went on strike shortly before we arrived there," Greg answered. "Once O'Flynn announced Noir's death, they all filed out."

"Well, there were problems for months at the prison…malfunctioning jail cells, prisoner assaults, gang activities. You name it, they had it."

"Guess privatization wasn't going so well for them," Grissom pronounced.

"So anyway, Noir was in O'Flynn's office. Now the secretary confirmed that O'Flynn was with her going over some paperwork when Noir was murdered."

"Weren't there two prisoners on the loose?"

"Yeah, but one has been paroled and the other is still there."

"Then we need to question the remaining cell mate and have the parole officer get in touch with the parolee," Grissom said.

"We have, but they confirm each other's alibi. They were in the library at the time of the lockdown. Why they didn't go to their cells, I don't know."

Grissom's eyebrows knitted together quizzically. "I thought they were found in the chapel."

Greg looked at the file and then at Grissom. "The file said they were in the library, but they were eventually found in the chapel."

Warrick shook his head. "Of course they lied."

"McVeigh, age 36, born in Dallas, Texas," Grissom read. "Was sentenced to 1 year's probation by Judge Bill Stokes."

Everyone looked at each other.

"I wonder if Nick remembers this guy."

"Let's ask him."

xxXXxx

_He couldn't breathe._

_He couldn't move._

_McVeigh sat on his chest with a big grin._

"_Save a horse, ride a cowboy."_

Nick sat up on the couch abruptly, knocking George off. He looked around the room and saw by the clock that he had to be at work in 35 minutes. He raced around, dressing quickly and feeding the cat, then grabbed his gun from under his pillow and took off.

He'd fallen asleep watching TV…some independent movie channel that he had to put up with in order to get his favourite sports channel and his beloved Animal Planet. Then he woke up in the night to the horror of watching a movie he'd forgotten about-"Deliverance".

The dueling banjo scene caught his attention, but it wasn't that. It was the rape scene with the mountain man and Ned Beatty.

First man: I'm gonna make you squeal like a pig! Whee!

"_This is his first time, he's bleedin' like a pig!"_

"_Let's make him squeal like one too."_

_They twisted Nick's ear forcing him to cry out, the sound muffled._

_One of them sang the banjo song from the movie, and laughter erupted between them._

Nick felt nauseated and had to run to the bathroom. After weakly standing up, he noticed his skin colour. It was yellow.

Was he getting the damn flu?

He shut the TV off. George had crawled into his lap, perching his front paws on his shoulders and licking his ears and purring so loudly Nick thought the Crazy Cat Lady could hear it.

Nick lay back down on the couch and fell asleep with the cat purring contently on his chest.

Only now he was in the woods. Greg was there, tied against the tree with the mountain man being John McVeigh.

"_C'mon Judge's boy! Squeal like a pig."_

_Nick refused. "Just fucking shoot me instead!"_

It had been 16 weeks, 3 days, and about 12 hours since that moment, and although the emotional pain still resided, there was some good news. His second HIV test, done three months later to the day, was clean.

However, the doctor wanted to run some more tests because there was something peculiar about his electrolytes. Nick was feeling tired almost all the time, and the pain in his side was increasing.

It took four weeks to finally stop feeling numb and shocked, another four weeks to stop thinking about putting the gun in his mouth as Walter Gordon had so bluntly put it, and the next four weeks to start a plan of action of how to dispose of the matter.

He had started watching a show called "Dexter". It was about a crime scene investigator who was also a serial killer who murdered people who had gotten away with vicious crimes, such as a murderous priest.

Nick found the show mildly entertaining and quite relatable at this moment.

In his head, the scene in the prison replayed itself with other outcomes. He'd grabbed his gun and shot both of them. His legs broke loose and kicked them in the balls. Anything. Anything other then what actually happened.

As he watched the scene in the movie, the pit in his stomach coiled. What was so damn entertaining about a man being raped?

It's not funny. It's not entertaining. Did the producer or the director realize how a man feels after that?

He thought about "Pulp Fiction" with Ving Rhames' character being raped. The character actually phrased it in a far more relatable way for Nick.

"I'm pretty fucking far from being okay!"

Since that day, Nick knew something in him had changed. A rage brewed in him like a pressure cooker. Not just rage towards his attackers, but towards himself. He hated himself so much now…something he'd never experienced…a self hate that made him want to smash mirrors, put the damn gun in his mouth and end it all.

Why? Because with all of his physical training and self-defense, again…again he became a victim.

He'd been thrown out window, held at gunpoint, and buried alive with ants eating him and yet, again, he was ignorant of his personal safety and allowed himself to be in a situation where this time he was degraded beyond belief.

He'd rather be back in the coffin. At least his clothes were on and his privates only tampered with by some little bugs.

His co-workers were still curious about his behaviour, but eventually Nick put on a happy face and simply went about his business.

Nick parked his Tahoe and raced into the building. Grissom was in his office, and Nick swallowed, walking by and hoping not to be noticed.

But the bugman called out, "You're late, Nick."

Damn!! He walked over to the door and stood there ready to be admonished, hands shoved into his pockets.

Nick stood at the door feeling about 12 years old. "Sorry, Grissom. I just woke up 35 minutes ago."

Grissom called him in and asked him to take a seat. "That's not like you, Nick. Is everything okay?"

Nick was nervous for a moment. Had Sara said anything to him? He decided to divert the conversation.

"Can I ask you question?" He looked down and ran a hand over his leg nervously.

Grissom was surprised as Nick never really asked him anything, probably because they barely spoke to one another.

"Of course Nick," Grissom answered.

Nick started and stopped. "Do you know anything about dreams?"

Grissom shrugged. "Somewhat."

"I've been having this one where I'm awake, but I can't breathe…I can't move. It's weird. Maybe I should see the doctor." He felt embarrassed at this point, coming to his boss about such personal stuff.

"Sleep paralysis."

Nick stared at him.

"Sleep paralysis, Nick. Do you feel like something is sitting on your chest?"

"Yeah." Nick wouldn't say what it was. "Like some monster."

"Sleep paralysis. Also known as hypnopompic paralysis."

"So it happens during the REM phase?" Nick asked.

"Precisely. Our bodies are paralyzed during REM sleep to prevent manifestations of our dreams. With sleep paralysis you wake up before the paralysis ceases. Our bodies need to stay immobilized while we sleep so that we don't act out our dreams. But with this condition, the brain is awake before the body. It's quite common, Nick. How often have you had them?"

"Couple of weeks," Nick answered. "But what about the hallucinations and the sitting on the chest?"

"You're still in REM sleep, so that's common."

"How do you get rid of it?"

"Well, usually it's caused by stress. In some cultures it's thought of as a demon. African Americans have referred to it as the devil riding on your back."

"_Save a horse, ride a cowboy!"_

Nick winced as Grissom continued, "In Turkish culture, it is referred to as a karabasan…a creature who attacks people in their sleep and steals their breath."

"They say that about cats," Nick said.

"I doubt if George is trying to steal your breath, Nick."

"No, just my socks. I found three inside my couch the other day." Nick lifted his pant legs to show his boss his mismatched pair.

Grissom smiled, amused at the idea of his straight arrow of a CSI having to comb through his house looking for missing socks.

"And how is the kitty named after an actor who does look like you, Nick? It's very eerie!"

"Yeah whatever, uh, he's been uh...stealing things from the neighbours' houses. I've found a rattle under my bed, another pair of socks not my own in the bathroom, and a stuffed teddy bear under my pillow." Nick looked at Grissom. "Not mine!"

Grissom looked down and started laughing, shaking his head.

Nick looked at his boss with disbelief. He'd never made Grissom laugh before.

"Well, I'll have to write to Sara about this. I'm sure she's going to have a good laugh."

"Oh…has she…have you talked to her?" Nick felt his heart speed up.

"No, she's gone to Africa…Rwanda actually, to work with a forensics team uncovering a mass grave."

Nick looked at him. "Didn't they find all the bodies?"

"No." Grissom looked at Nick. "They also didn't have the technology in 1994 to ID them. She wants to help put some families at peace knowing where their loved ones are. Anyway, we're off topic. About your dream…in the South they refer to it as a hag and it is said to be a sign of an ominous event."

Nick grimaced, but Grissom assured him, "It's usually stress related, Nick."

"Yeah stress, I've had some big stress in my life as of late."

"Such as going through a crime scene unescorted." Grissom peered over his glasses.

"Yeah that was stupid," Nick admitted.

"It was impulsive. I thought we'd reined that monkey in, Nick?" Grissom took his glasses off and fixed him with a scolding look.

"We did, but I wasn't feeling well."

Grissom studied Nick, causing the Texan to feel like some bug under a microscope.

"Nick, can you show me your hand for a minute?" He put his glasses back on.

Nick wisely asked, "Why? So you can infect me with some mold?"

"No. Just let me see it."

Nick hesitantly held his hand out to Grissom who brought his reading lamp closer to look at it.

"You know, there's a slight tinge of yellow in your hands. I'd ask if you were painting, but your entire hand is yellow."

Nick snatched it back and glared. "No, I didn't know."

"Have you gone to the doctor?"

"Not in the past four months."

Grissom studied Nick for a second, thinking how the young man looked like he was in a pressure cooker, and then took a risk.

"Nick, what do you know about John McVeigh?" Grissom asked.

The reaction was strange. Nick looked up, eyes wide with fear and anger, then he shrugged and said, "Nothing. My dad mentioned him once."

"Your father sentenced him to one year for animal cruelty and breaking and entering."

"Yeah…so?"

"You know, he was in the library with you that day that you were locked in there."

"Thought they were in the chapel."

"They said they were in the library the whole time."

"Well they lied, I guess."

"We scanned the chapel, and the Chaplain was in there playing the organ at the time, Nick. There's no evidence to prove they were there. We haven't done the library because the guards are on a work to rule campaign, so it's not entirely safe to go back."

Nick shrugged. "Not my case anymore, Grissom."

Grissom looked at the younger criminalist and studied him some more.

"Nick, I don't pry into my team's private lives."

"So don't start!" Nick snapped, jumped up, and walked out.

Grissom watched him storm away and sighed in frustration. Something was going on with Nick, and true to form the Texan had compartmentalized the emotions he was feeling for the sake of his job. The problem with compartmentalizing emotions is that they can be allowed to fester and eat away if not dealt with properly.

Catherine had come to him asking about getting Nick to see the department psychologist. Perhaps he should try. It had something to do with the prison. It had to be. And if those two prisoners were locked in there with Nick, did they find him?

Grissom pulled the file out and looked through it. The library was a huge room, 800 by 800 square feet, but it would not be hard for them to know Nick was there or even for him to know they were there.

He had a hunch, but no corresponding evidence. And evidence would be proof in the pudding that would link Nick's bizarre behaviour with the day in the prison.

Grissom put in an e-mail to the psychologist and asked for her opinion.

He knew one thing for sure; Nick was still doing his work in fine form. Grissom hoped it would continue that way. He'd lost one wonderful CSI and didn't want to lose another.

xxXXxx

Nick hadn't meant to be rude. The truth was he really, really, really needed to use the bathroom like he'd never had since the one and only trip he made to a restaurant in LA owned by the crime guy on TV that he named his cat after and had regretted it since.

The trip to the john left him feeling clammy and weak, and he wondered if he was developing the flu…again.

The vet clinic robbery was an inside job. One of the employees. Case closed. Nick was filing the papers away when Warrick walked by and asked, "Hey, can you lend us a hand on the prison case?"

Nick grew alarmed. "No." He darted away like a gazelle from a leering lion.

"What's with you?" Warrick asked, shaking his head in confusion.

"Nothing. I told you I don't want to do the case." Nick continued to walk on. He had another case that needed tending to.

"C'mon man. We're stuck," Warrick called after him pleadingly.

Nick sighed. "Fine." He detoured back to the layout room and hoped it was a simple request. Greg was there and smiled and greeted him.

"So McVeigh and Smith were in the library the whole time, meaning they had plenty of time to kill Noir before the director got back," Greg said, examining the broken chair which presumably was the evidence despite the lack of DNA other than the victim's.

"We have no evidence linking them. For all we know they were probably in the library at the time of the murder," Warrick told him.

"But why didn't they go back to the cell?" Greg asked.

They looked at Nick who feigned interest. He looked up and shook his head that he didn't know.

Warrick suddenly smirked, "Unless they were engaged in some kind of prisoner coupling."

Nick felt his heart starting to beat fast and he bit his lip.

"_We doin it to the Judge's boy!!"_

Greg shook his head. "I'm not a homophobe, but that thought grosses the shit out of me."

Nick shifted his weight uncomfortably from one side to the other as he felt sweat pouring down the back of his shirt.

"Well, you're not being a homophobe, but I mean…well it's a power thing in the prison system…a way for them to show who's boss and who's the leader and such," Warrick said.

Trembling, Nick interjected, "How did they get to the chapel?" He hoped they didn't hear his voice going up an octave.

The laughter subsided as Greg answered, "Some kind of door between the two rooms."

"Wasn't it locked?" Nick inhaled deeply to control the feeling of wild birds in his stomach, birds frantically trying to escape the cage they were trapped in.

"I guess not."

Nick took a deep another breath. "The question is, how did they get from the office to the library to the chapel without being noticed?" His heart raced at breakneck speed. The birds were frantic and were fighting with each other, ready to kill one another in the name of escape.

"What they were doing in the library is what I want to know," Warrick said, rubbing his chin.

"Having a prisoner love fest," Greg laughed, nudging Warrick, and the laughter erupted again.

The cage broke and the birds escaped screeching as Nick yelled, "Why don't you two shut the fuck up and just focus on the evidence!!"

The two of them looked at Nick in shock. The room was deadly quiet.

"We're kidding around, Nick," Warrick said, seeing the absolute rage in Nick's face, along with fear.

"You weren't locked in the library with them nearby, Rick!"

"That was your choice, man. You chose to go into the prison and you chose to go into the library," Warrick told him in a voice that sounded condescending to Nick.

The Texan's nostrils flared, and he looked at the taller man. "Fuck you!!"

With that he stormed out, almost knocking Catherine down on the way as she walked into the room.

"What the hell is going on?!" she asked the two men angrily.

"I don't know," Warrick answered, not wanting to get Nick into trouble.

"What's with Nick?" Catherine wasn't buying it. Greg and Warrick looked like two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"We're just going over the prison murder," Greg told her.

"Well, I told Nick he didn't have to work on it. So why did you two ask him to help?" she asked, annoyed to see her instructions disregarded, as usual. Probably because she was a woman. Friggin' men!!

"I just wanted some answers is all," Rick told her.

"Well then, do it without Nick's help," she said as she walked back out, leaving the two criminalists stumped.

Nick was in the break room on the couch, rubbing his temples to fight off an impending headache.

"Sorry Nick. I guess they just want to solve this."

"They can do it without me," he answered her sullenly.

"Yeah they can. Look, just go home. You've done 24 hours and you look beat."

He smiled. "Thanks."

Nick swallowed two ibuprofen and gulped back water, then lay on the couch waiting for the pain receptors to settle down along with the birds in his stomach who were resting. He nodded off and was dozing.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move.

He looked up and saw John McVeigh. Then something touched his arm. Nick jumped up and looked around frantically.

"It's me!" a soft voice said. Mandy, dressed in her blue coat and wearing glasses.

He looked up at her, breathing heavily.

"Nick, are you okay?" She sat down beside him and rubbed his back. It felt soothing and non-threatening to him.

Mandy felt non-threatening to him. He looked at her for a minute and smiled nervously.

"I'm okay. Is there anyone else in this room?"

"No. Hodges was in here and told me you were sleeping, so I came to check to see if you were okay."

Nick reached over and took her hand off his shoulder where it had come to a stop, squeezed it, and looked at her. She seemed surprised but didn't move it away.

"Thanks, Mandy," he said.

She smiled. "Anytime, dude!"

"I had fun the other night," he said.

"I'm glad. We should do it again."

He nodded. "Yeah we should…you and I."

She seemed surprised. "Let me know." He felt her hand trembling, and she quickly excused herself.

Nick leaned back into the couch and looked at the time. It had only been three hours since Catherine told him to go home, but his headache was gone and he needed to discard the cortisol running through his system.

_Cortisol__ is a __corticosteroid__hormone__ produced by the __Zona fasciculata__ of the __adrenal cortex__ (in the adrenal gland). It is a vital hormone that is often referred to as the "stress hormone" as it is involved in the response to __stress__. It increases __blood pressure__, __blood sugar__ levels and has an __immunosuppressive__ action_.

Nick recalled reading this in a medical textbook Doc Robbins had given him after he'd been buried alive.

"Cortisol is produced in order for the body to deal with stressors, but too much of it is not a good thing," Doc had told him. "Researchers have found that high levels of cortisol could actually damage the hippocampus of your brain as well as lead to stress-exacerbated diseases like hypertension or adult onset diabetes, even in your fit condition, Nick. Exercise and other stress reducing activities can bring your cortisol back to normal. Look after yourself, Nick."

Nick didn't feel like exercising, but exorcizing some bad chemicals out of his system. He went to the basement to the indoor shooting range and decided to fire a few rounds into the target.

"This is one for John McVeigh," he mumbled to himself as his finger pressed the trigger.

BULLSEYE

Nick smiled and then fired a second shot. "This one is for Charles Smith."

BULLSEYE

"Wow!"

Nick whipped around, eyes blazing to see Bobby Dawson.

"Sorry, Nick." Bobby jumped back, his blue eyes wide with fright.

Nick breathed a sigh of relief and said, "I hate it when people sneak up on me."

Bobby was decked out in goggles with his own piece. "Sorry man."

"Whatever!" Nick stormed out, checked the goggles back in, and simply left.

xxXXxx

George was snoozing on the step as he pulled up. He had grown into a long, lean, kitten machine.

Nick scooped him up, headed into the house with the little guy, and made some dinner for himself, throwing a few scraps to the cat.

He listened to his answering machine. Pamela had left a message apologizing, but he deleted it before she could finish.

Forgiveness was something Nick found harder to perform these days. Sure everyone screws up, but he'd had enough.

That night he read over the file sent to him by courier. It was a long one. McVeigh was indeed a psychopath.

In addition, McVeigh was not someone his psychologist was keen on seeing released, as he displayed psychopathic tendencies and his rap sheet was indicative. From cruelty to animals as a youngster to stealing from a youth centre to stealing cars, more cruelty to animals, assault, gang related business, and then manslaughter.

And he was only 21 years old when he was convicted 15 years ago.

Then the most shocking information of all came when Nick read the very last page of the info dug up for him.

When McVeigh was 14, he was brought up on Break and Enter and Animal Cruelty Charges. He had microwaved a cat in someone's home after breaking in and destroying everything. The cat didn't die at the time, but later it had to be euthanized.

After Nick read this info, he reached out and picked up George and held him as he read on to the most shocking info of all.

The judge who sentenced him was his own father - William Stokes. McVeigh was sentenced to 18 months for the B&E and six months max for the cruelty to animal charges to be served concurrently with no possible chance for parole any sooner than that. And his time would be served in a youth detention facility. He would also have to undergo psychiatric counseling.

Nick recalled a memory:

"_That kid had the coldest eyes I've ever seen. Not one whit of remorse in him."_

_They were sitting at a table playing cards. Nick had been about 16 at the time and listened as his dad told him about the case._

"_Can't you put him jail, Dad, for frying that cat? That's pretty mean!"_

"_No, Nick, the laws are not too good about that kind of thing, but hopefully he'll get some kind of treatment before he kills someone. And he will. I've seen his kind before."_

"_Can't you keep him in jail?"_

"_Can't keep someone in jail for something they haven't done yet, son. But I gave him the stiffest sentence I could. He won't be on the streets for a while - at least yet."_

Now he understood what was said during his attack.

"_Never thought I'd see the day where I'd be shoving it into the son of a judge! Been waiting fifteen years for this."_

Now he understood what this was about. It was payback because his father had been a hard ass of a judge.

Now most people would thank a man like his father for turning their lives around, but McVeigh was a sociopath who felt that everything and everyone were simply in existence to serve him and his every need.

George had wiggled out of his arms and was soon trying to nap on his laptop.

Nick was surprised at how much he liked having a cat around. He now packed a lint brush in his crime kit. He'd come home to his favourite trophies knocked off the shelf; snags on the T on his carpet; holes in his leather couch. But Nick decided that it wasn't worth getting angry about and scooped the little cat up, pulled a beer from the fridge, and together they'd watch "Animal Precinct".

"Gotta be doing away with the family jewels there, buddy," Nick told him sympathetically. "Yeah, the Bob Barker treatment. Sorry bud…can't be responsible for the unwanted kittens of the world. With my luck some of them would wind up in a dog fighting ring!"

Nick turned to look at something on the TV, and found George had snuck off with a piece of salami from his sandwich.

"George, man!" Nick walked after him and then decided that he didn't want to have what was left, given that the kitten had just been licking his balls earlier. Yuck!!

He wearily sat down at the computer again. The past few days he'd been exhausted and tired again. He had pains in his side that wouldn't go away.

_Oh fuck, am I sick again?_

He went into his bedroom to change into some casual clothes and noticed a pack of cigarettes on the floor.

"George!!" Nick moaned.

He went next door to Mrs. Matthews's house and used the cat door knocker.

She opened the door and glared at him. "I don't have your cat!"

"No, but he took your cigarettes." Nick handed them back to her.

"I don't smoke that crap. That belongs to Tom Banker down the street," she said.

"Oh, sorry."

Nick turned away when he heard her say, "You know, some guy was hanging around here the other day…tall guy with long hair and a bald spot on the back of his head. But then your psycho cat jumped out of the bush and mangled his hand."

Nick turned and looked at her, wondering if she'd gone loopy.

"Told you…that cat picked you."

Nick nodded. "Thanks Mrs. Matthews."

He went down the street and returned the items George had stolen from the neighbours with a sheepish apology and a promise to keep his kleptomaniac, psycho, guard cat away from their houses.

"After what he did to that guy in front of your house, I'm not going near him," Mrs. Dominic, local soccer mom with 1.5 kids, said.

"Oh yeah, well, George is like that," Nick said, returning the tiny bear to its little angry owner who stuck her tongue out at him and sauntered off.

"Just keep him away from my kids, Mr. Stakes."

"Stokes. And I will. He's harmless though."

"Whatever, let's go Tyler!" the Lulemon-adorned woman said, shuffling her rude kid off to the minivan.

Nick began to walk home and then found he was running because he needed to pee so bad he thought he wouldn't make it, giving his neighbours more to talk about.

He was simply taking care of things when he looked down and noticed something in the toilet. His urine was dark looking, like cola or tea.

_That's peculiar._

But that wasn't what was bothering him. Who was standing outside his house at night?

He zipped up and washed his hands, wondering what was going on with him physically. Kidney infection maybe?

Any injuries he had from the attack were long gone as far as he could feel and see. His test for HIV was negative, so as far as he could tell he was okay.

And mentally…well, he worked out more so then usual and jogged every day to fight off any emotional repercussions, and he liked the results when he looked in the mirror. Or more correctly, when he could bring himself to look in the mirror. When things started to get tense at work, the firing range was where he went. Even Grissom noticed one day.

"_Well I'm impressed," he told Nick who simply shrugged._

"_Thanks."_

"_Keep up the good work!" he told Nick with a pat on his back, noticing the slight wincing, and then he was gone._

_As he walked away Nick thought to himself, "Oh believe me. I will."_

Then when he figured out who the pervs were, he pictured them on the target and aimed squarely for the head. And each time, he felt as if he'd been exorcised. The gun was the priest and the memories the demons that possessed him.

It used to bug Nick that he was almost ghost-like amongst the team, but now he kind of wanted it that way…to simply do his job and go home. Warrick invited him to go play basketball on a couple of occasions, but Nick declined, instead going to a batting range and pounding a few.

"You okay man?" the tall, gangly, man asked in the locker room as Nick checked his CSI vest into his locker.

"Fine."

"You've been kind of quiet lately."

"I'm okay!" Nick looked up and smiled.

"Hey, let's go shoot a few hoops."

"Some other time, Warrick."

"You gotta be seeing someone. Greg told me about the hottie from Reno."

"Oh really? Well, she's history."

"What's the matter, man? She got too much energy for an ole geezer like you?"

Nick forced himself to laugh. "Yeah, whatever!!" Slamming his locker door, he scooted out the door before any more questions could be asked_._

A sharp pain hit him in the side as he fed George his nightly meal. Nick liked to keep a big bowl of water and dry food out for the little guy. Inhaling through his nostrils, he took a deep breath and blew it out slowly to ease the pain.

When he got to work the pain hit him again while he pulled his vest on. A small gasp escaped his lips, catching the attention of Grissom who was walking by looking at a file. He looked over and saw Nick leaning over in pain.

"Nick?" Grissom walked in and looked at him.

Nick looked up with a caught look.

"Are you alight?"

"I'm fine." Nick grabbed his vest and pulled it on.

"Did you go see the doctor like I told you?"

"Not yet."

"Well, we're slow for once, so take the night off and go see the doctor in the morning."

"What are you, my dad?" Nick grumbled.

"No, but if one of our team members is not up to speed, then we all suffer for it," Grissom answered.

Nick slumped on the bench. "Fine. I'll go then."

Grissom shrugged. "I can't win with you, Nick. It's probably my fault."

The Texan looked at him wearily. "It's just work, Grissom. It's just a job. That's all there is. I have my life here and then I have my life at home and that's that. I don't bring one into the other. Remember the adage, Gris, "Don't crap where you eat."

"Kind of a crude way of looking at it," Grissom answered. "But it's true."

"Yeah," Nick answered. "that coming from you is hypocritical!"

Grissom stood up straight and stared coldly at Nick. "Just go see your doctor, Nick."

Nick looked at him, started tying his laces again, and just before Grissom walked out, flustered, he spoke quietly. "John McVeigh was sentenced by my dad to jail. He fried a cat in a microwave after doing a B&E. I remember him from high school. He was a few years ahead of me though, and he hung out with a nasty crowd…future guests of the state, as my dad called them. When I was interning at the courthouse, his case came up. He gave me the creeps."

Grissom listened intently, hands shoved into his pockets. "So you knew him."

"Well, sort of. I didn't hang out with him. I was working at the courthouse that one summer during break from college. I was the clerk in the courtroom at the time. My dad was tough, but fair. Some people use those opportunities to change their life, but not McVeigh. No. He blamed my dad for ruining his life."

"How do you know that?"

"He freaked in court, yelling it was just a 'fucking cat' is all. Then he yelled that he was going to get my dad and his entire family. That got him more time in jail."

"Is that why you don't want to work on this case?"

Nick looked up. "Yes. The day he was sentenced, he wouldn't stop staring at me. It was creepy. I was reading the docket number, and I could feel him looking at me. I had to keep my voice real steady so I wouldn't get yelled at during dinner for fucking up in the courtroom. My dad was loving, but a real tough guy, and he had real high expectations of us. Failure was never an option. I never told him about the creepy look McVeigh gave me because he'd be all over me, telling me not to let the criminals get the best of me and all."

Grissom nodded, understanding the weight of this case on Nick. McVeigh had threatened his family. "Must have been tough being the judge's son."

"_Wonder what the judge be sayin' now if he knew I was doing his pretty boy!"_

Nick felt tears spring to his eyes and kept his eyes on the laces. "Yeah, but that's life. You deal with whatever is thrown at you."

Grissom watched Nick work on his laces, feeling an epiphany moment as he realized why the younger criminalist wanted so badly to please him in the early years of his career. The entomologist always needed to have a deeper understanding of people for some reason. To understand their psyche made it easier for him to relate to people, particularly those with their quirks.

To him, Nick was the guy he'd be leery of in high school…the high school preppie who got all the girls and got everything he ever asked for…the football player with the cheerleaders hanging off of him.

Certainly the Texan had the look and could get the girls, but that didn't mean life was any easier for him. In fact, Nick had it harder then the rest of his team because no one took him seriously as a scientist because of his looks. Grissom had to admit that he didn't take him seriously for a long time as well. Then, add in the number of times Nick's life had been in danger and you had a guy who looked like he had it all, but didn't.

"Nick, I appreciate you sharing this with me, and I'll make sure you are nowhere near this case ever again," Grissom told him.

Nick smiled slightly. "Thanks, Grissom." He got up and pulled his jacket on. "You know, my dad's a good judge. He wanted to help McVeigh…give him a chance in life, but McVeigh didn't want it. Strange thing though. His parents were nice people. His sister turned out okay, but he didn't."

"Some people, Nick, are meant for a life of evil."

The Texan was staring far off and then nodded. "Yeah, and they inflict it on others no matter what the cost." With that he was gone, feeling Grissom's worried stare.

xxXXxx

Dr. Zayid agreed to see him right away.

Nick told him all the symptoms. Dr. Zayid read over his chart. "Last time, I asked you to come back in because your enzymes were off." He looked closely at Nick. "Your skin seems to be a bit yellow."

"Jaundiced."

"Yeah," the doctor answered and started to fill out a form. "Your second HIV test was negative, but we haven't run a Hepatitis test on you. You've been vaccinated, I assume, given your profession?"

Nick shook his head. "No, because I was allergic to the baker's yeast."

"So you're not vaccinated against it?" The doctor's eyebrows lifted in concern.

"No."

Dr. Zayid nodded and filled out the requisition instructing him to get some blood work done.

"I suspect you have Acute Hepatitis, which as you probably know is when your liver is inflamed. It can take a while to recover from it."

Nick inhaled and asked, "What kind is it? A, B, or C?"

"Well C can lay dormant for years before you start to show symptoms, so I suspect given your symptoms it's either A or B."

Nick cleared his throat and asked, "Can it be caused by unprotected sex, doctor?"

Doctor Zayid looked at him strangely. "It could be caused by unprotected sex, or you could have had a cut on your arm and came in contact with it at a crime scene. You are in one of the high risk groups, don't forget that. But in terms of sex…well, it's seen a lot in the homosexual community and it's common in prisons"

Nick blanched. He'd never thought about Hepatitis. He was so worried about HIV that it never once crossed his mind that he could be infected with Hepatitis. He rubbed his forehead and moaned.

"Nick," the doctor said, "are you okay? Is there something I should know? When I saw you four months ago you looked a bit banged up and told me you were in bar fight. I've known you for a while, Nick, and that's not normally you. Now you're back, showing symptoms of Hepatitis and being tested for HIV for the next few months."

Nick pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Nothing."

"Are you sure? Because anything you tell me is confidential. And if there is more to that story, then just tell me. I want to help you."

"Everything I tell you is off the record. Please!" Nick stared pointedly at him.

"Other then a gunshot wound, everything can be off the record."

Nick told him, "It wasn't just a bar fight. Other stuff happened, and there was blood to blood contact. It was with a guy. It wasn't consensual." By the end, the words came out sounding choked.

Dr. Zayid looked at him, confused at the incomplete sentences before a look of 'Eureka' came about it.

Nick's hands were in fists as he gave him the abbreviated version of what happened. The doctor was quiet, and then went back to his laptop.

"Well, you've tested negative so far for AIDS, Nick, so that's a good sign. Unfortunately, as I mentioned earlier, Hepatitis is also a common health problem in the prisons, so let's just run these tests and see what happens. At this point I'm suspecting B. The first thing I need to do is a blood test called a Hepatitis B Surface Antigen Test. This will determine if there is an active virus. You were attacked a few months ago, Nick?"

"Yeah." Seemed like yesterday to him.

"It takes about four weeks for the virus to become detectable."

Nick's lips pressed together into a thin line and his jaw clenched.

"How do I get rid of it?" he finally asked.

"There's no treatment for it. It usually just goes away. I can only recommend supportive measures to keep up your strength, so I'd suggest you take some time off work for a bit to keep your strength up. It can take up to six months to recover, and you'll need to come in for blood work regularly. If it's not gone in six months, we'll proceed with a liver biopsy to determine whether your condition is chronic. No alcohol, and if you have sex please take measures to protect the person you are with."

"Like that's gonna happen!" Nick snorted. "Last time…well...it went pretty bad."

"That's normal given what happen to you. Along with the test, I'd like to exam you, Nick, for any physical dam..."

"No!" Nick answered sharply, sounding like an aggressive dog ready to savage someone trying to take his food bowl away.

"Okay." The doctor backed off. "That's fine."

The printer sounded and the doctor went over, pulled some papers out, and handed them to Nick.

"This is the name of a therapist who specializes in men that have been through your ordeal."

Nick looked at the paper. Dr. Joan Marsmann, Psychotherapist. The picture showed a blonde haired woman in her late forties with kind blue eyes.

"And here's your letter to request time off."

Nick took it and sighed. "Any good news, doc?"

"Actually, yes. If you have Acute Hepatitis B your liver will start to build antibodies and therefore you can't get it again."

Then he looked at Nick again reassuringly. "There was an FBI report out recently that said that at least one out of eight men will experience something like this in a lifetime."

Nick looked at him and wanted to tell him that it had happened twice to him, but he simply folded up the brochures and paper work.

"I don't want any suspicion from co-workers, so time off is not an option."

"If your test comes back positive, that will be the only option because you will need rest or risk became a chronic Hepatitis B sufferer. Nick, am I making myself clear?" Dr. Zayid's blue eyes became steely with determination.

Nick wasn't used to this stern tone of Dr. Zayid's, but the point was taken.

"Yes sir." He nodded at the doctor.

The Texan drove home listening to Green Day, trying to perk up his spirits with prepubescent punk rock.

Once I was young and I had big plans

Now I'm just a shitty old man

I hate everyone and I hate everything

The world owes me so fuck you.

Nick smirked because that was how he felt at the moment: a grumpy old man who hated everyone – well, just a few people.

If there was ever a time to start on his plan, then it was now. Not only did these bastards screw him up mentally, but he had a disease that could be downright dangerous. Maybe time off would be good. He could 'take care of things.'

Unfortunately, he received a message from Grissom that it was all hands on deck. A ten-year-old girl reported missing by her parents had turned up in a suitcase in a bus depot.

"Nick, you're leading this," was all he was told.

_**A/N: Deliverance is a 1972 movie based on a novel of the same name by James Dickey starring Ned Beatty and Burt Reynolds about four business men who go on a canoe trip in the wilderness. One of the characters winds up being raped in what has been described as one of the most disturbing scenes in film history. **_

_**The movie is known for its theme of exploring the potential for violence in all of us given the right circumstances.**_

_**The next chapter will be quite chaotic so hang on to your hats.**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**IRREVERSIBLE**_

_**CHAPTER 6**_

_Vengeance to God alone belongs; But, when I think of all my wrongs My blood is liquid flame! Sir Walter Scott_

Nick drove out to the scene that he was to take charge of as Catherine was held up at a conference and Grissom was asked by the Under Sheriff to testify at a trial disputing another entomologist's claims.

With the two supervisors gone, the lead was given to Nick who hated…_hated_… dealing with child murders; especially this one which he knew without having seen that it involved rape.

As he got there, a sharp cramp bit him like a dragon. He had been just about to give Grissom the written order by the doctor for time off, but then when he was told of the crime he felt he had to take charge.

An Amber Alert had been issued while he was at the doctor, and he'd been paged by Grissom to be available in case he was needed. Then the bugman got the call from the Under Sheriff and Catherine had just gotten on the airplane.

Nick knew this was a high profile case and that he should feel somewhat honoured to be given the reins, but he didn't want it. He wanted nothing of it, but duty called and he had to answer it. To not do so would make him look bad to the LVPD.

A suitcase had been found at a storage locker by a woman who had mistaken it for her suitcase, but then she noticed blood seeping out of it and peeked in. Her screams drew the security guards who called 911.

A screen had been put up already when Nick pulled up in front of the yellow tape. He took a deep breath and forced himself into criminalist mode. Sofia was standing there with her notepad, wearing sunglasses, her hair in a low pony tail.

Nick got out of the truck, and walked to the back to get his kit. He slung his camera around his neck and pulled the silver box out of the back.

"Alright." he said, walking over and preparing himself for the worst. There was nothing he hated more then dealing with the murder of a child. "What have we got?"

"Right now we have no ID on the body, but the description fits that of Joanna Barker, age 10, missing since yesterday morning. She'd been walking home from a friend's house, and when she didn't arrive by the evening her parents gave the friends a call and were told she had already left."

Nick listened as he walked over to Dave who sighed heavily as he looked up.

"Rigor is not fixed; she's probably been dead for about 6 hours."

Nick looked down and grimaced; a young girl's body, naked, her torso and legs packed together in a rolling suitcase. By observation, she looked exactly like the missing girl, but without ID she'd have to be ID'd by the parents. Her red curly hair hung limply around her face and her eyes were closed, her lips pursed. Her body had been sawed in half. Nick struggled to fight back tears and made sure his shades were on. He rubbed his nose and started to take a few photos.

An older woman stood by talking to a uniform, tears shedding from her eyes. Some young security guards looking like high school skater boys stood by looking shaken, one muttering about this being the last day on this job.

"She thought it was her suitcase, and then she noticed the blood," Sofia said. "Poor woman's completely shaken up."

"Can't blame her," Dave said.

Nick pressed his lips together and continued to take photos, wanting to get this part out of the way so he could give the little girl some dignity, and being on a slab was better than being in a suitcase.

"Alright Dave, just get her over to the morgue," Nick said turning away looking up at the sky wondering where God was at this point, he must have taken a permanent vacation having given up on the world he created.

A Yukon Denali pulled up and Greg jumped out with Warrick following.

"Thought you were doing the prison case?" Nick asked.

"Grissom said all hands on deck," Warrick told him.

"Okay, scan the area. I'm going back to the lab to go over the body for any trace."

"Okay, Grissom," Warrick smirked.

Nick feigned a smile.

xxXXxx

Back at the lab Nick called on Ronnie, the newbie from days, to assist him with the rape kit. He wanted a female to do the bottom half of the little girl's torso out of sheer respect and dignity. He was a scientist, yes, and this was all due course, yes, but humanity dictated that it was only proper for a woman criminalist to do the deed.

Nick focused on the top part of her torso, while Ronnie did the bottom half.

He snapped the photos, going through the motions of collecting evidence. Then he scraped her nails and to his delight found some fresh skin. Nick muttered, "Good job, kid! You fought the bastard!"

"Got something?" Ronnie called.

"Oh yeah, I got skin samples. Hopefully we can get some DNA from it."

Nick applied the tape over her body, her chest, shoulders, and stomach then ran a comb through her curly, red hair and was equally delighted to find green threads, the kind you find on any run of the mill bathmat.

Then he heard Judy paging him to take a call on line two. He grabbed the phone on the wall.

"Mr. Stokes?" The nurse from the doctor's office was on the line.

"Yeah."

"It's Dr. Zayid's office. He needs to see you right away. Can you come in?"

Nick's heart thumped madly. "I'm in the middle of a big case. Can't it wait?"

"That's not advisable."

"Well, it's gotta wait!!" Nick slammed the phone down.

"Nick." He heard Sofia call his name and turned to find a distraught looking couple in their early 30's approaching him. He braced himself, putting on his professional demeanor, and took the couple to ID their daughter. In a small room, he stood and waited as the window opened. Doc had covered her body up with a sheet.

The woman, her mother presumably, collapsed as Joanna's face appeared. The man with her held her up and comforted her. Nick folded his arms and looked down, trying to contain himself, but it was becoming harder. Sofia nodded at him that she could take care of this and that he could leave. As Nick did he heard the mother calling his name. He looked around.

"Please find the bastard who did this!" she pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

He nodded. "I'll give it my all, I promise you that. I can tell you, your daughter put up a hell of a fight."

The parents looked each other and nodded. "That was our girl!" her father sobbed, and together they left.

xxXXxx

"COD was asphyxiation," Doc said, shaking his head. "Ligature marks on her neck suggest she was strangled with an extension cord."

"_Tie his legs to that there table. I got his arms!"_

Nick gave his a head a bit of a shake to bring him back to the present while the ghosts beckoned him. Doc was talking away, but Nick's head was full of ghosts whispering to him.

"She was raped both vaginally and anally," Doc said to Nick who, to the coroner's surprise, immediately walked out without saying a word the doors flapping behind him.

The Texan paced the hallway trying to make sense of the random thoughts swirling around in his head.

_The pain was unbearable. Indescribable. If the gun that was pressed against his temple by the other guy didn't go off, he would surely die from the pain._

Nick drank from the water fountain and took deep breaths to control the panic surging in him, and before he knew it he had slid down the wall and was balancing himself on his heels.

"_You ain't done this before, pretty boy. I can tell. You's a bleedin' real bad, real bad!"_

_Was there a puppy in the room? No, that was his voice, muffled by the rag. His eyes burned with the tears that slid out of them._

"_Oh poor baby! He's a crying here. Needs his daddy to comfort him!"_

_Someone grabbed his hair and yanked him upward, "__Stop crying, motherfucker!" The gun pressed into his temple harder, immediately silencing him. "I'm gonna shove this fucking gun up your ass and pull the trigger if you keep up that fucking crying. You fucking wimp!! Do-gooder! Judge's boy!! You sat there in the court room looking like you had the world by the tail. Well look at you now!!" _

_The thrusting was harder, the pain increased, and he passed out._

Now he was sitting on the floor, knees up to his chest sobbing hard.

"Nick."

He looked up at Doc Robbins staring down at him, concerned.

"Maybe you should give the case to someone else. This is obviously too difficult for you."

"I'm fine!" Nick stood up and gathered himself. "I'm just tired, Doc, that's all."

"Nick, your skin looks very strange." Doc commented trying to stop him before he took off.

"I gotta go!" Nick kept walking, his white coat flying behind him. He ripped it off, tossed it into a bucket, and went back upstairs and changed into some fresh clothes he had stored in his locker.

Nick was waiting for results from Hodges and Wendy. Wendy had been able to extract DNA from the skin samples. Unfortunately, no matches were found in CODIS according to Mandy who solemnly gave him the bad news. Nick looked at her. Their eyes made a connection and small, shy smiles were exchanged before Nick turned back to the computer where an LVPD street map was up.

"She left this address at about 11:00 a.m. and was headed back to here." He pointed the mouse to the address of the little girl's house. "So somewhere along this strip of houses and apartments she was taken."

"So perhaps you need to get DNA samples from every male in that area," Mandy told him.

"Well, I've got Warrick and Greg on it along with Brass and Sofia and some uniforms. It's not a long strip, so it shouldn't take more than a day or so…if they can get everyone."

Nick put the word out and for the next few days he and the team walked up and down the street asking for DNA samples.

"We've gotten DNA samples from all the guys in her block except two. One is completely paralyzed and is 100 years old, and the other just wouldn't cough it up and we have no legal reason to ask him," Warrick explained to Nick as they met with Greg in the break room.

"But," Greg said, "we might have something. Remember those green threads you found in her hair?"

Nick ran a hand over his head. "Yeah." He was exhausted and feeling a bit dizzy.

"Well, from the doorway I could see a green carpet in his living room."

"Really," Nick said, his ears perking with interest bringing him out of the haze.

"So somehow we need to get a DNA match to this guy."

"Well," Nick said, "as Grissom would say, if Mohammad won't go to the mountain, then the mountain must go to Mohammad. I'll get Brass and we'll go follow this guy."

The sun was beating down as they sat in a Starbucks listening to some sassy music while urbanites drank 10.00 lattes. Brass was looking at Nick who was nursing a club soda.

"You okay?" the detective asked.

"Just fighting something," Nick mumbled, not taking his eyes off a burly man with brown hair and hazel eyes. Ron Chevarie, age 38, an animator for violent cartoons, sat drinking a coffee. Since Warrick and Greg had checked him out already, Nick decided he and Brass would be better suited to do this next round to avoid suspicion.

"You don't look good, Nicky," Brass said, taking a sip of his plain black coffee.

"I'm tired. I haven't slept properly in days," Nick answered, sipping the club soda. His mom always told him club soda was good for nauseated stomachs. But it did nothing to ease his malaise.

Closing his book, Chevarie finished his latte and walked away, and to their delight he left the coffee cup behind. Nick smiled and bagged it triumphantly.

The results came back with a positive match, much to everyone's relief and delight, and Mr. Chevarie was arrested. While waiting for the cops to bring him in, Nick tried to get through to his clinic, but kept being put on hold. They left him messages to come in right away.

Nick walked with Brass into the interrogation room. Ron Chevarie was known for inventing some of the most violent video games around...the kind that would disturb even the most hardened game player. He didn't look too interesting, dressed in a white polo shirt and jeans. He had a burly build, straight brown hair cut with a sweep to the front, a goatee, and hazel eyes.

Chevarie looked so normal. How could someone like him do something so horrific? But Nick had learned over the years that appearances were deceiving.

"Is it me?" Nick mumbled to Brass as they pulled out their chairs. "It's hot in here."

"It has to be you," Brass responded. "They've got the air conditioner on full blast."

Sweat beaded down the Texan's forehead as he explained to Chevarie what he found. "The DNA on the cup matched DNA from skin scrapings we found under Joanna's nails. In addition, we found fibers on her that matched the green carpet in your living room." Nick stared hard at the man who was trembling.

Chevarie was at loss for words to explain it. He looked at his lawyer who whispered a few words into his ear.

"I was watching some...porn...and…I got a hard on...and I walked out and there she was." Chevarie stuttered the words.

Nick studied him. "Who?"

"Joanna."

"What kind of porn?" Brass asked. "The kiddie stuff we found on your computer?"

"Yeah." Ron was trembling and cracked his knuckles, much to Nick's chagrin.

"So how does the kiddie porn relate to Joanna?" Nick asked, feeling queasiness in his stomach and deepening malaise. The room was spinning.

"She was really pretty," Chevarie said.

"_Wonder what the Judge be sayin if he knew I was doin' his pretty boy!"_

Chevarie was twitching in his seat nervously. "I got a hard on and I walked out and then there she was, just like that. I can't believe how easy it was. I just grabbed her and walked her back into my house and had sex with her. Like that. Then I grabbed an extension cord and strangled her because I didn't want her to rat me out."

_The cord dug into his arms and tightened with each painful thrust. He struggled to free himself._

Nick snapped out of it and sighed as he watched Chevarie talk with such simplicity about killing Joanna.

"I'm sorry," he said. "She shouldn't have been there alone."

The malaise made an instant retreat as the adrenaline from a dormant rage took hold of Nick. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared as he stood up and looked over at Chevarie who blanched.

"It was so easy for you, man, wasn't it? Just grab her off the street, take her back to your apartment, rape her, chop her up, and dump her in a suitcase in a bus depot! How the fuck do you think she must have felt, you dumb son-of-a-bitch?! Do you know how much fucking pain she must have been when you raped her? She was a little girl! A kid!!"

"Nick!" Brass ordered. "I think you should leave now."

"No!" Nick snarled at the detective and turned his attention to Chevarie again. "How does it make you feel to rape someone? Powerful?! Horny?! How do you feel when you're degrading another human being?"

Chevarie shook his head. "I wasn't thinking about how she felt! I just wanted to fuck a kid!"

The room fell into a deadly silence, and then something in Nick snapped and before even he knew it he grabbed Chevarie by the hair and twisted his head up to face him and began screaming at him

"You wanna know something, Chevarie?! I'll personally see to it you get the death penalty! Am I making myself clear, man?! Am I?!"

The Texan felt arms grabbing him off and Brass ordered Nick out of the room.

"Go get some air, Stokes!!" Brass said, slamming the door in his face.

Nick stumbled to a bench and slumped onto it. Fatigue had now completely gripped him, vice-like. He grabbed his stomach and noticed it had swelled.

"Nick!"

The Texan looked up and saw Mandy in front of him.

"I'm so tired Mandy."

She motioned to Warrick who was nearby talking to Greg, and the two CSIs walked over.

"Hey man!" Warrick sat next to him.

"Warrick," Nick whispered, "I'm …" He keeled over in pain. "Jesus, I'm gonna fucking die!"

"I'm taking you to the hospital right away," Warrick told him in a no-nonsense voice.

Nick looked up at Mandy. "Ask Hodges to get George."

Warrick handed his keys to Mandy who said she would.

At Desert Palms, Nick was immediately admitted and sent directly to the ICU. Dr. Zayid was on duty and ordered fluids, then pressed on Nick's swollen stomach, earning a few cuss words from the Texan.

"_Oh I know he's never done this, he's a bleeding away here like a stabbed pig."_

"_Make him squeal like one."_

_They twisted his earning another cry from Nick.  
_

"_He is a pig, and right now we teaching this pig a thing or two about life...real life...these pretty boys know nothing about the fucking crap that goes on. You know his daddy's a judge in Texas...bet he'd like to hear what his pretty boy is doing right now."_

_A slap on his back followed by maniacal laughter, "Hey pretty boy...your daddy...me in jail...long time ago...I never forgot that…what a self-righteous pompous ass he was…well payback's a bitch!!"_

The clouds faded and Nick looked up and saw piercing blue eyes staring down at him.

"Nick, it's Doctor Zayid. Can you hear me?"

The Texan nodded and saw that an IV was inserted into his hand.

"Nick, we were trying to get a hold of you for several days. I know you've been working on an important case, but the reason I was trying to get you into the office is because your Hepatitis test came back positive. You've got Acute Hepatitis B, but given the severity of your condition I'm concerned you are going into the early stages of Fulimant Hepatic-Acute Liver Failure. You're going to have to stay in the ICU until we're sure of where things stand. Okay?"

Nick closed his eyes and whispered, "Okay."

Dr. Zayid smiled. "I hear you nabbed the guy who killed that little girl. Good work, Nick. Now it's time for you to rest."

xxXXxx

Grissom had just arrived back when he got the call. He stood in the hallway of the hospital with Warrick when the doctor came out.

"How's he doing doc?" Warrick stopped him.

"Are you family?" Dr. Zayid eyed him suspiciously.

"We're as close as it gets!" Warrick answered testily.

"His parents are on their way." Grissom remained calm. "I'm his boss, Dr. Gil Grissom, and this is Warrick Brown, his colleague."

Dr. Zayid looked at his file and then agreed to explain. "Nick came in a few weeks ago showing signs of jaundice. I ran some tests on him, but he never came in for the results."

Grissom's eyes narrowed. "Hepatitis?"

"Yes."

"Which one?"

"B, which is not fatal. But in this case, which is rare, I'm concerned that it's turning into acute liver failure of Fulimant Hepatitis. We're running tests right now to see if that is the case or if Nick is simply run down. He really should be resting and looking after himself. If he doesn't, he'll put himself at risk of developing Chronic Liver Hepatitis which could require a transplant to save him. But it's too early to tell."

"Holy fuck!" Warrick blew out a breath and leaned against a wall.

"What's his prognosis?" Grissom asked, remaining calm while raging internally at Nick for not taking care of his health.

"At this point he's responding well to the fluids and bringing up the electrolytes in his liver. There is no treatment for Acute Hepatitis B other then bed rest, so if the tests come back negative for liver failure we'll send him home. But if there has been some deterioration in his liver cells, we'll need to keep him in ICU for a while as there is a risk of renal failure and multi-organ failure if it is Fulimant Hepatitis."

"Can we see him?" Warrick asked.

"For a second," the doctor answered and showed them in.

Sounds whooshed in and out, and Nick could hear organ music playing. Then Warrick's voice broke through the haze.

"Hang in there!"

Nick moved his head over to the sound of the voice and saw Grissom. He tried to speak. Grissom leaned over.

"I'm sorry," Nick said.

Grissom looked at the doctor and then back at Nick. "For what, Nick?"

"For everything."

Grissom glanced over at the doctor who shrugged.

Nick slept on and off for several days while tests were run. He listened to the sounds of machines and crying family members from behind other curtains, and simply rested.

And the weirdest of dreams, the weirdest, seemed to float in and out of the clouds.

"_It's okay, Nick," she whispered to him, breasts pressing onto his tiny chest as she crawled onto him, naked, his pajama bottoms hoisted off and onto the floor._

"_Why did something so bad, feel so good?" he wondered as she laid on him. He stared at the Star Wars poster over her._

_A day later he ripped the poster down and tossed it in the garbage._

_Two days later, he threw a baseball at her house and for three days after lived with the sting of his father's belt from the lashing he received for the baseball. Pillows were his best friends._

"_It didn't hurt!" Nick snarled at his dad after the lashingwalking away rubbing his behind, but this was far better then the reality of what happened a few nights okay._

_Better that than his father knowing the truth about what a bad kid he'd just been._

"Nick, it's your mother." A soft hand touched his, and he snatched his hand away, feeling his heart race.

"Nick, it's Cisco!"

He opened his eyes and stared up into eyes that look liked his.

Tears streamed from his eyes as his father smiled down on him. "You're pulling through this, Nick."

He looked around and faces became clearer, more contrast.

His dad's eyes were the first he could see, and oddly he felt safe when he saw them, but at the same time he felt fear because if his dad knew the truth he wouldn't be standing there looking at him with love in his eyes.

So instead, Nick mumbled to him, "You didn't like me much as a kid, did you?"

Judge Stokes was taken aback by the question. He looked into his son's eyes and realized that he was quite serious and quite lucid.

The curtain opened and a thin man walked in. "Nick, it's Dr. Zayid. You're doing much better. Thankfully, your tests for acute liver failure came back negative. But Nick, it's gonna be a while before you're up to working. You need to rest. Hepatitis B is a serious illness, Nick. Okay? You're going to have to take it easy for a while."

The Texan looked around weakly. His mother stood there wringing her hands while his dad sat on the bed.

"How did this happen to you, Nick?" His mother asked.

Dr. Zayid decided then it was time for them to leave. "I need to speak to Nick alone for a minute. You don't mind stepping out for minute, do you?" It was more of an order than a request, but his parents got the message and quietly left the ICU.

"This is never going away, is it?" Nick said, staring blankly up and counting the holes in the ceiling. "If it's chronic, they'll leave their mark on me forever."

"You've got good health on your side, Nick." Dr. Zayid smiled. "The chances of you becoming chronic are minimal, but it could be months before you're fully recovered from this and even then we still have to monitor you to see if it's become chronic. But again, that's probably not going to happen."

Dr. Zayid stood up and asked Nick if he wanted to see his parents again. Nick reluctantly agreed.

"Son, what happened to you? Can you tell us how this happened?" Cisco asked.

"I'm tired, Cisco," the Texan mumbled. "I just want to sleep."

His father walked over to him and leaned over. "You said earlier that when you were a kid I never liked you. Well, you were right. I never liked you."

Nick felt a pain in his heart. He knew it.

Then his father kissed him on the forehead and continued, "I never liked you, but I loved you, Poncho."

Tears sprung to Nick's eyes. If his father knew the truth about him, he wouldn't be so quick to say that.

A nurse walked in and told his parents that she was going to give him something to help him sleep a bit more before they moved him out of the ICU.

xxXXxx

Within a week, he was discharged and back at home. His parents made the reluctant decision to go back to Texas after begging him to come home for a while and let them look after him. Nick refused. He couldn't do it. Somehow his dirty secret would get out, and the last people in the world he wanted to know were his parents.

He relaxed in the EZ Chair with George who had put on a few pounds since his visit with Hodges. Nick would have to talk to Hodges about overfeeding his kitty whom he wanted to keep long and lean.

George snuggled into his arms as he watched Anderson Cooper's "Planet in Peril". Not a light-hearted choice, but since basketball season was over and baseball was a little boring at the moment, he decided to make his world bleaker by watching depressing news about the environment.

Nick thought for a moment, "That's what I need to do, go to the Arctic and stand on an ice cap and wait for it to melt or get eaten by a ravenous polar bear."

Just then the doorbell went off causing Nick to jump up with a loud cry, toppling George to the floor who stared up at his jumpy owner with an indignant look before walking off with a flip of the tail, a gesture that made Nick wonder if that was the feline version of the midfinger.

Tip-toeing to the door, Nick looked through the peephole and blew a sigh of relief.

"I told you I was coming over with dinner, so don't look so surprised," Mandy laughed as she walked in, the smell of egg rolls causing Nick's stomach to rumble; A good sign.

"What else you got?"

"Scrabble!"

The Texan laughed. "Really?"

"What? You scared I'll kick your ass?" she asked, marching into the kitchen.

"Please!" Nick scoffed. "I could kick my dad's ass at the game when I was only 12."

"Okay, big shot! Bring it on!!" Mandy challenged. As she set the plates she said, "I cleaned your house for you, don't bother thanking me I was glad to do it."

Nick looked at her, panic stricken; the closet…the garbage bag on the top shelf in his bedroom closet.

"What?!" she asked, annoyed that he looked worried. "You scared I broke one of your trophies?"

"George already broke most of them, but no. Just where did you clean?" He eyed her.

"Oh, I just dusted and vacuumed," she said, scooping some egg rolls onto a plate. "I didn't snoop."

"Didn't say you did. Thank you, Mandy," Nick said as she handed the plate of food to him.

"You're welcome."

xxXXxx

Grissom sat back at his desk, exhausted from a day of explaining the intricate nature of flies, maggots, and all that jazz to a jury who looked about as interested as they were in a root canal.

Add on a team member with a deadly virus.

Grissom had just filed a report with Ecklie letting him know about Nick's Hepatitis status. Doc Robbins had confirmed the B strain was harder to transmit than A and probably the best course of action was to have the entire LVPD confirm vaccination or encourage them to do so unless there was a health reason not to.

Hepatitis B, Grissom explained in his report, is normally transmitted through exposure to infected body fluids, particularly blood. It was a risk they faced on the job every day, but unless someone in the lab had unprotected sex with Nick (a possibility, although Grissom himself didn't keep tabs on Nick's love life) or shared a needle with him (highly unlikely) they were safe. Nick had also told him at the hospital that he wore gloves continuously and changed them frequently to reduce exposure to other staff.

He picked up his phone to take down some voice mail messages, and thankfully there was only one.

"Doctor Grissom, this Kevin O'Flynn from High State Desert Prison. Could you please call me right away? I've received some disturbing information about one of your CSIs that I think I should make you aware of."

Puzzled, Grissom immediately dialed the cell phone number of the director.

"Thanks for getting back to me, Dr. Grissom," O'Flynn answered without saying hello.

"Thank you for leaving a number I can call you at. It's normally not easy to reach you."

"Well, given the nature of the information I received from a reliable source..." Mr. O'Flynn spoke, his voice sounding nervous.

"What information?" Grissom asked, leaning back into his chair and taking off his glasses, rubbing the spot on his nose where the lenses rested.

"About CSI Nick Stokes."

Grissom held his breath. "What about him?"

"One of my colleagues has always mentioned how strange Nick acted when we came into the library that day. He's been around for about twenty years, Grissom, and he has a great camaraderie with the prisoners here. Well, the other day one of them, Charles Smith, was overheard by him telling some of his friends about the day of the strike and the good ole time he and his pal John McVeigh had with the judge's boy in the library. Mr. Stokes' father is Judge Bill Stokes, am I correct?"

Grissom exhaled a bit and answered, "Yes, yes he is. What does he mean about a 'good ole time' with Nick?"

"I don't think I need to explain any further, do I?"

"Well, prisoners say a lot of things, Mr. O'Flynn," Grissom quipped, feeling a queasiness in his stomach.

"I agree with you there, but I have to tell you, the day that we found Mr. Stokes in the library he appeared very shaken up."

Grissom rubbed his forehead with his fingers and felt a sinking feeling within him. "Nick's always been a bit jumpy in stressful situations. He's been through a lot. Has anyone talked to this…Mr. Smith?"

"Yes, but he's gone quiet."

"Do we have any evidence that corresponds to this other than word of mouth?"

"Well, we're going to conduct a search of Mr. Smith's cell this evening. Perhaps you'd like to come out."

Grissom was exhausted but agreed that it would probably be a good idea to search the cell as it was a serious claim that Smith had made. "I'll bring Detective Brass with me."

"I'm sorry about all this, Dr. Grissom," Mr. O'Flynn said, sounding obviously guilty.

"If there's evidence that proves the claim, Mr. O'Flynn, I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

Grissom got off the phone, immediately contacted Brass who was about to call it a shift, and started out the door when Warrick appeared.

"Grissom, what's up with you?" the black man asked, noticing the anger in his boss' face.

"Warrick, I'm glad you're here. I think you need to come with Brass and I back to the prison."

"Another murder?" he asked.

"No, it's about Nick. They've found something."

xxXXxx

Nick received a call about the same time. Mandy had been gone a couple of hours and he was about to call it a night when he picked up the phone.

"Your boss is on his way here to check out some evidence of a rumour about you being attacked in the prison," his friend told him. "You wanna tell me what that's all about and whether this has something to do with the information you wanted me to send?"

Nick's heart thumped madly. "I can't. I really can't. I gotta go." He hung up before his friend could respond. Within minutes, Nick dialed Mandy's number. When she answered, sounding groggy, he asked, "Can you come over and take George? I'm going out of town."

"Shouldn't you be resting?" she said through a yawn.

"Trust me on this, Mandy."

A pause, then a response. "Okay, I'm coming right away."

Nick began to gather his files together on McVeigh and Smith. If there was anyone he wanted to go after first it was McVeigh because it was obvious that; A. He was the ring leader; B. He had been stalking him; and C. He was out of prison, while Smith had time left.

George sat on the bed and watched while Nick packed his suitcase. "Little man, I'm just going out of town for a bit. I'd take you with me, but you're safer with Mandy," Nick said to him as he matched up some socks. "I'm not putting my buddy in any danger, that's for sure." George yawned and curled into a ball on the pillow.

The Texan heard the doorbell and went over to the door. After seeing Mandy in the peephole, he opened it.

She was wearing a grey sweat suit with a navy blue tank top underneath the jacket. Her hair was done up in a pony tail, and she looked very sleepy.

"I gotta double shift tomorrow," she explained, walking in as Nick closed the door behind her.

"Thanks for coming on short notice."

"That's okay, Nick, but where are you going?" she asked as she set her purse down.

"I've got to go to Texas to see my parents. My mom's sick," Nick said, hating himself for lying.

"I'm sorry, Nick," Mandy said sympathetically.

"Well, anyway, I'm going to drive out to the airport and fly home," he said as he looked around the living room. "Where's George? Oh, he was in the bedroom." Nick walked back into his room and looked on the bed.

No George.

Nick went back into the living room and told Mandy, "He was in there a minute ago."

"He knows something's up," Mandy laughed as she started walking around calling his name.

"Oh I think he's under the bed or something," Nick said, walking back into his room.

"Here…we'll tag team," Mandy said. "He's got no chance against the two of us."

Nick bent down and looked under the bed and jumped back up finding nothing, only to bop Mandy in the head as she was about to look under.

"Oh crap!" Nick exclaimed and held her by the shoulders as she laughed. "Oh I'm sorry."

She looked up at him laughing. "It's okay. I'm fine."

They laughed for a second until Nick realized he hadn't let her go and began to stroke her shoulders and notice her, really notice her, for the first time.

Mandy was actually a sultry looking woman, a fact he didn't catch working at the lab all day where she wore blue lab coats. Only lately, as they hung out, had he noticed that she was a very attractive girl with a mouth that was so damn luscious he wondered how he could work with her for so many years and not once be tempted to kiss it.

He swore he could hear her heart beating as she looked at his hands on her shoulders, unsure of what to do, and Nick tried to figure out what was going on with himself, other than some primal urge in him that lay dormant and now was needing to take control of him again while his mind protested and the war began.

The last few weeks since his attack, the only living creature he could bear near him was George, but Nick recalled hearing Caesar Milan, the Dog Whisperer, say that all living species need some connection to one another in order to survive.

Their breathing became slightly louder as Nick leaned over and kissed her on the cheeks and her neck, deliberately avoiding her mouth, as hard as that was. Her arms went around his shoulders and her breathing became louder, sounding heavenly in his ears and sending jolts down his spine as he held her flush against him, his hands stroking her back.

He stopped for a second and quickly asked, "You're…vaccinated against Hepatitis B?"

"Absolutely!" she said in between breaths as her arms held him tightly and he went back to nuzzling her neck, undoing her shirt, then finally kissing her on the mouth feeling more assured about her safety, their tongues meeting and doing a dance of their own.

Her kisses were intoxicating, an oasis to him, and soon Nick laid her onto his unmade bed and went about undressing her. First the jacket, then the tank top she wore underneath, and finally the pink lace bra she wore.

Her skin was beautiful, but it was her breasts that caught his attention with nipples that were so dark it was like chocolate as he began nuzzling them, kissing them. Damn they tasted fucking heavenly! He sucked on one and then the other while his fingers made a beeline south, aiming for the sweet spot that brought all women to their knees.

"Take...take…your shirt off," she mumbled, pulling the t-shirt out of his pants.

Nick pulled it over his head and went back to work pulling off her pants, the matching pink panties going with them, and finally getting a good look at her body. Her skin was glowing beautifully in the lamp lit room, her hips shapely, her belly slightly out and the rest of her gorgeous. He had been working with such an attractive woman and hadn't even known it.

He butterfly kissed her all the way down her belly, noticing the trembling before he finally came to the centre, and then with his fingers began to explore her, aiming for the sensitive nub making her cry out in pure ecstasy. Nick was elated. He didn't think he'd ever feel like this again, and her moans were proof that body and mind were working together and neither was going to let him down.

Mandy was panting as she stroked his face, fingers stroking his jaw. "So what happened to your no dating co-workers stance?" she asked, her voice on the brink.

He smiled down at her. "I reserve the right to change my mind," he drawled. "I've got protection," he said and then asked again, "The doctor told me it was okay to have sex if I use a rubber. Are you okay with this?"

"Oh man!" she exclaimed, as if that was the dumbest question. "Do you have to ask?" She reached up and eagerly began to undo his jeans, her hands shaking as she undid the belt and started to slide them down.

"_I think he's getting' a boner!"_

In a flash, Nick grabbed Mandy's hands and ripped them off him before jumping off the bed and heading straight into the bathroom where he found himself launched into a full scale panic attack. His head was ready to explode as he was launched back into the past.

"_It's okay, Nick, you're doing really good!" a woman's voice told him._

"_Squeal like a pig! Judge's boy!" a gruff voice told him._

He clamped his hands over his ears and cursed a blue streak to rid himself of these freakin' voices and freakin' ghosts that followed him everywhere like cats. Then he heard a knock on the bathroom door that yanked him into the present.

"Nick, are you okay?" Mandy asked.

"No! Just give me a minute!!"

He sat on the toilet seat trying to calm himself down and tightened his hands into fists, making his prominent veins pop up. Finally, he was settled enough to face Mandy. He opened the door slowly, took a deep breath, and walked back into his bedroom wondering how to explain to her what happened without going into the details.

"I'm in here," she called to him. "I found George and put him into his carrier."

Mandy was fully dressed and had gathered some of the cat's belongings, including his bed, his favourite bowl (a gift from Hodges), and some toys.

"I found some socks in his bed. Do you want them?" Mandy was all business and avoiding all eye contact with him.

"No, I let him have those." Nick shoved his hands into his pockets, watching the lab tech woefully and guilt ridden. When it was Pamela, he didn't really care because… well, frankly, she was just a piece of ass for him. However, Mandy was a different case altogether because she was a friend, and lately she had become more of a friend, although not quite a girlfriend. Thus, this latest ordeal had a more serious impact because the last thing Nick wanted was to hurt Mandy in any way.

Finally, she turned to him and he could see her eyes were red from crying, but she stoically looked at him and said in a flat voice, "You know how to make a girl feel real good about herself, Nick. If you didn't want to be with me, then you should have just said so."

'"It's not you," he said and then proverbially kicked himself for using that clichéd line.

"Yeah whatever!" She started to head out.

"Look, you don't have to do this. I can take George with me," Nick called after her.

"No, I said I would, and I'm not a jerk, Nick. I won't take anything out on him."

"I'm not saying that, but look…here…take some money." He grabbed his wallet out of his pocket and handed her a couple of 50s. "And I've booked an appointment at the clinic for him to be neutered. It's prepaid, so everything is looked after."

"Okay, Nick. I'll let you know how he's doing, okay?" She was very anxious to leave.

"You've got my cell number?"

"It's programmed into my phone."

Nick walked over and tried to give her a hug but she backed off and said, "Have a nice trip, Nick."

The Texan got the clue and looked into the carrier. "You be good, little man. No stealing things." George looked at Nick, confused and scared.

"I gotta go. I have a long day at the lab," Mandy told him and made her way out with carrier, cat, and supplies.

Nick closed the door behind her without saying a word and turned back to packing. He had an address and his weapon of choice. It was time to settle the score. He was ready and had a plan to do it, clean and without evidence. He was a CSI after all. McVeigh was going to find out that payback was indeed a bitch!

He packed his bags and then packed the finest of all in a duffle bag -a Wildcat Bolt Action 22 shot gun, its accompanying bullets.

Nick recalled the scene from Sweeney Todd where Johnny Depp held the silver blade and announced that ' alas my arm is complete'. He felt the same way as he packed the rifle-a gift from his dad for hunting. Complete as if his plan was finally in motion.

He packed the bags in the Tohoe while Mrs. Matthews sat on the stoop of her house.

"You goin' a trip?" She accused more then asked.

Nick eyed her and then said, "You could say that."

"You look like a man on a mission if you ask me." She took a drag from her cigarette and wrapped her sweater tighter around her.

"Again, you could say that Mrs. Matthews." Nick answered wondering if pray tell this crazy old bat ever slept or did she spend her time keeping track of every, friggin' nuance of his life as pathetic as it was.

"When you comin' back?"

"When I'm ready." Nick slammed the back door and got into the front of the Tahoe and pulled out without saying a word.


	7. Chapter 7

**IRREVERSIBLE**

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**_To die is nothing, but it is terrible not to live._**

_**Victor Hugo**_**_, __'Les Miserables'_**

_**Thanks to Smokey for her edits!**_

"So Mr. Smith, tell me about this good ole time you had with my friend," Brass said as he and Grissom sat across the table from a gaunt, disheveled haired man in his late twenties, dressed in an orange prison suit.

"I don't know anything," Charles Smith answered defiantly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh really? That's not what the prisoner communication system tells me. Is this your version of broken telephone? Tell one prisoner something and it turns into something else?" Brass asked in a gruff voice.

Grissom, meanwhile, studied the man closely and could see via his body language that he was nervous about something and that he was hiding something. His eyes retracted to the left and he twitched in three second intervals. And it was clear that whatever it was, he was not necessarily the ringleader in this, but a follower.

"Mr. Smith," Grissom said, "I remember you from a few years ago. Nick and I worked on your case. You were accused of murdering your wife and children, and the jury found you guilty and sentenced you to life in prison. You were spared the death penalty though, thanks to your 'supposed' mental state at the time."

Smith glared at him. "Yeah, I remember you and I remember your buddy, southern boy."

"Yes, it was Nick who actually broke the case when he found your gun buried in the field behind your house," Grissom told him, watching the man's angered expression at the mere mention of Nick Stokes.

"I told you it wasn't my gun." The man's mouth contorted angrily.

"No, but it was the weapon used. Nick found blood on it from a wound on your hand that opened while you were shooting your family," Grissom said, looking through the file. "So you've got a big beef with Nick."

"Yeah, I'm rotting away in jail because of him," Smith snarled angrily.

"No, man," Brass told him, shaking his head in disbelief, "because of you and what you did to your wife and kids. Nick was just the messenger to the justice system in that one."

"Southern boy done put me away here, and his daddy put my friend in jail when he was sixteen," Smith explained, his mouth contorting with the words 'southern boy'.

"Are you talking about John McVeigh?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah, my cellmate, but he's been gone for months. Couldn't keep him in jail forever." Smith smiled menacingly.

Grissom then studied Smith more closely and noticed that he was not a well man. He had a gaunt look and jaundiced skin on a clean-shaven face. His red hair was slicked back and his blue eyes were red. He had a scar running from his forehead down the side of his face.

"Mr. Smith, do you have Hepatitis B?"

"You read my medical file. You know I do," Smith said. "My liver is shot to hell. I'm going to need a transplant soon or I'm going to die, plus I just found out I'm HIV-positive. So there's no point putting me on death row. I'm gonna die soon."

The news hit Grissom like a bow shot. His eyes narrowed to slits, and he said in a voice etched with anger, "If I find any evidence that you attacked one my guys, you're going to wish you hadn't."

With that Grissom got up and stormed out of the room, Brass following. "I want to search his cell!" he ordered Warrick and Greg who were standing nearby. "Every inch of it."

Mr. O'Flynn nodded to the guards. "Take Mr. Grissom and his team back to Smith's cell."

xxXXxx

"Laundry is done twice a week here," a tall, thin, black man looking like Barack Obama told Brass as the CSIs combed through the cell.

"You're the one who heard the rumour, Mr…," Brass said.

"Mr. Cowell. No relation to the American Idol judge."

"Really?" Brass quipped. "I see a strong resemblance."

Cowell laughed slightly and then his face grew somber. "That day when we came in here, that guy Stokes had a look about him, like he had just barely escaped a pack of hungry lions."

"Can you describe it?" Brass asked, feeling uneasiness in his stomach, both wanting and not wanting to know the truth of this rumour.

"Well, his eyes were red like he was crying. His face was red. He just looked shocked. He was walking almost like a zombie." Cowell shook his head. "I knew something happened. I just wasn't sure how to approach it."

"Did he say anything to you?" Brass asked, writing down the information in his pad.

"No, but he acted strange. His gun was on the checkout desk, which I thought was odd."

"Why was he in there alone?" Brass asked, shaking his head at the incompetence.

"It was a bad situation. Guards were on strike, everything was chaos. The cook didn't know better. He just wanted to get into the action is all."

Grissom packed the prisoner's clothes into a box. Greg was pulling the sheets off the bed when a white extension cord popped out. "What would this be doing here?" he asked himself.

Grissom found a small drawer and pulled it open to find a small rag shoved into the corner next to a bible and some pictures of Smith and McVeigh. "Hmm…" Grissom held it up, "I wonder why someone would keep a rag in a drawer?"

"I don't want to know," Greg said as he bagged the extension cord.

"Well, we have to know," he told Greg, whose eyes had darkened in stark contrast to his face which had gone pale.

Warrick came back from the office with Smith's and McVeigh's files. "I just got done talking to the prison doctor. Smith and McVeigh were partners, if you know what I mean. McVeigh is in the early stages of Hepatitis B, while Smith has been chronic for years and is now HIV-positive."

"And Nick has Hepatitis B," Grissom concluded, "which can be transmitted sexually."

A pained expression came across Warrick's face. "Fuck man, I don't even comprehend something like this happening to Nick…not him of all people."

"Let's not jump to conclusions, Warrick. We have no proof yet," Grissom assured him, although he too was struggling to come to terms with this.

xxXXxx

Mandy sat in the break room fiddling with her lunch…a Weight Watchers Smart Meal - fettuccine alfredo.

"Since when do you need a diet?" Wendy asked as she chowed down on some microwaved chili she'd made for herself and Hodges the other night.

"Since, whenever…" Mandy replied blankly and shoved it away. She was myriad of emotions right now and all directed at one person: Nick Stokes.

She was in love with him, she knew that much. Her lab fantasy turned buddy turned lover for only fifteen minutes had, like a cute little puppy, found his way into her heart in spite of the odds against it being reciprocated.

Mandy knew she was nothing but another Lab Rat to Nick, and for years she sat back and watched as he flirted with the sophisticated likes of Sofia Curtis, Catherine Willows, Sara Sidle, and other classic beauties while she sat at her computer behind her glasses and lab coat.

Not that she had problems scoring guys outside the lab, but she found herself one of the guys in most cases. In her bed, she thought about that night and the short time they were intimate with one another. Her loins ached along with her heart as she recalled his sudden hostile reaction and retreat to the bathroom, leaving her both hurt and humiliated at the same time.

"How's Nick's cat doing?" Wendy asked, bringing her out of reverie.

"Fine. He's a real cutie. I'm taking him to be neutered tomorrow. Nick left instructions and money for the vet so everything is set up," Mandy said with a small smile.

Wendy stared at her, confused. This was so unlike quirky Mandy, her buddy. She knew that she had some kind of relationship with Nick going, which surprised the hell out of her considering she'd always thought Nick would date some model or Vegas showgirl and wouldn't go for down-to-earth Mandy. Everyone knew Nick had 'standards' when it came to choosing women. Given his stereotypical looks, he had the upper hand in whom he dated and whom he didn't date.

Mandy was certainly not ugly by any means. She was a beautiful girl in an unconventional way. However, she was the kind of woman that guys like Nick didn't go for because of their 'high standards' in the looks department. Hell, Wendy herself wouldn't make the cut. At least she didn't think she would.

Now, Sofia Curtis would make the cut, but she was cold and icy. Personally, Wendy felt that Mandy was a better choice of woman for Nick because she'd keep him grounded in the real world. But as nice as Nick Stokes was, he was also cocky and arrogant in the relationship department. He was a real player, a flirt who used his looks to get what he wanted and who he wanted. Although lately, even that seemed to not work for him when a certain 22 year old girl from Reno supposedly brought him down off his high horse. About time as far as the Lab Rats were concerned.

"Well, at least the lab's been cleaned thoroughly and new supplies were brought in. That was pretty selfish of Nick to keep working even though he had Hepatitis!" Wendy grumbled.

Mandy looked at her, annoyed. "He had Hepatitis B. That's not contagious through touching."

"Well, Nick should have been more considerate!"

"He wore gloves 99 per cent of the time he was here. Did you not notice that?"

"How come you're defending him?" Wendy pulled a piece off her roll and chewed on it.

Mandy looked away. "I don't know, probably because I'm in love with this guy."

"I think you need to get your head examined! Nick Stokes?! The lab playboy?!" Wendy was concerned that Nick was using Mandy as a rebound, and now it looked as if she was right. "I mean, he got involved with a friggin' hooker years ago according to Bobby Dawson!"

"We all screw up, Wendy. I'm not one to throw stones, and Nick was a kid back then."

"And how long is this cat going to stay with you?" Wendy asked, perturbed by her friend's denial.

Mandy finally pushed the food away and sighed, "No date given."

Wendy looked at her strangely. "You don't know. So he dumped his cat on you and left town."

"Yep!" Mandy sighed, "Just like that."

"And you like this guy because…?" Wendy asked.

"I'm an idiot!" Mandy told her, tears springing to her eyes, and then she leaned over and told Wendy what happened before Nick left.

"Holy shit!" Wendy said in total shock. "What the hell is going on with that guy? He's gone loco. He's always been a weirdo, but now he's just off his rocker and you got sucked into it."

"Yeah that's me," Mandy moaned. "I'm a sucker and I got used."

"But it didn't go that far?"

Mandy shook her head.

"Thank God for small blessings," Wendy sighed then leaned over. "But was he good at what he did?"

Mandy grinned and blushed. "Yeah, yeah actually he was pretty damn good for that little time we had."

"Well, something good came out of it," Wendy told her, trying to help her friend look on the bright side of things. Just then Hodges and a few other Lab Rats appeared.

"Hey!" Wendy said, looking confused. "What's going on here? Meeting of Lab Rats?"

"No," Hodges said, sitting down next to Mandy, eyeing her meal. "Grissom just kicked us out of our stations and told us to take an extra lunch hour."

Wendy and Mandy looked at each other. "Really?!" they asked simultaneously.

"Yep, apparently Graveyard is working on a top secret case. All I heard was Grissom telling Greg to call it "John Doe" and run an analysis on some rag they found at the prison."

"You don't miss anything, do you?" Wendy said.

"No, I don't!" Hodges eyed her flirtatiously then sulked as he looked at Mandy. "And how's George doing?"

"Fine!" she answered shortly.

"Geeze, I wonder why he asked you. I mean, you don't know anything about cats!" Hodges wondered aloud.

"Neither did Nick, but he still has one." Wendy countered.

"Yes, and he's a quite a strange cat. Has a thing about hoarding small objects," Hodges said. "I told Nick he should have a cat psychologist look at George, but he just gave me a strange look and told me his cat was just fine, thank you very much."

"Oh, Nick's a stubborn guy!" Wendy said. "Does what he wants, when he wants."

"Yeah," Mandy said, getting up from the table deciding to get some fresh air and to get away from conversations all Nick. "That's Nick Stokes. Self-absorbed jerk!"

Hodges' eyes widened in surprise as he watched the dark-haired lab girl storm out. He looked at Wendy for answers.

"Never mind," Wendy said.

"Well I hope she doesn't take her anger at Nick out on the kitty!"

"She won't, Hodges," Wendy growled. "Just drop it!"

Hodges shrugged and helped himself to Mandy's meal.

xxXXxx

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move.

Then he heard some robins fighting outside his window, and the tingling sensation started in his fingers and sure enough he could move again.

Nick sat up in a small bed with a blue-flowered comforter. It took a moment to register that he was in a trailer, one that was sub-rented from a couple who were traveling for a few months.

The bed was a bit too soft for his liking and it resulted in a huge knot in his back. Nick sat up and stretched, groaning at the pain that swelled at the base of his back. He drug himself out, pulled on some faded jeans and a faded t-shirt, and made his way to the tiny kitchen to grab some yogurt, berries, and granola for breakfast and some fruit juice to go with it.

His doctor would be pleased with him. He'd been here for about a week and he'd done nothing but sleep, watch movies on a portable DVD, watch the 'Planet Earth' series, and then sleep. Strange, given his close proximity to his attacker, but perhaps on a subconscious level that helped because Nick knew that a resolution was near and he could detach himself from the attack of weeks ago.

Mandy had text-messaged him about George and sent some photos of him…one of him sitting on Hodges' head. What was Hodges doing at her house?! Nick felt a twinge of jealousy.

He had sent her numerous apologies, none of which she responded too. When she did respond, her messages were about George and how she couldn't find her favourite socks and that was that. Nick had thought often about the day he left and what happened between them and was still at a loss to explain why he did what he did to her. She didn't deserve that. So he took his lumps in stride. He was a first class shmuck to a wonderful woman.

Nick went outside and sat on the stoop to eat his breakfast. The sun was shining high in the sky, and he realized it was actually late afternoon. Had he slept that long? He turned on his iPod and tried to remember the song he'd downloaded, Green Day singing, "Working Class Hero". Nick had watched the ending of "American Idol" a while back and took a liking to this tune. He liked the John Lennon version, but the punk band put a harder edge to it, emphasizing the dreariness of the lyrics.

'_When you can't really function you're so full of fear  
A working class hero is something to be'_

Nick nodded to himself. "Yeah that's how I fucking feel, but I don't know if I'm a hero...just an idiot..."

He had been keeping a low profile but still observed the trailer park and its inhabitants. The park was primarily filled with small families, seniors, and a small number of single moms, including the property manager of the park, Eponine Sargent. She was a curvy woman in her late 30s, a year older than him actually, with a young daughter, Stephanie. They shared a trailer with Eponine's brother, Lee Sargent, who lived on a pension from the military after receiving shrapnel to the head that left him with severe migraines.

In fact, there were a lot of families in this park who were on various pensions for many reasons. It surprised Nick to know how many people live below the poverty line in the US. It shouldn't, but it did, and he then had to concede that he lived a much insulated life, surrounded by financially successful people whose success meant nothing to them other then giving them a false sense of power over who lives and who dies. Sam Braun for one.

The contrast between this life and his life in Vegas was so apparent. Here he was surrounded by people who were simply doing the best they could with what little they had financially, while in Vegas he dealt with people who had the financial means but still resorted to a life of crime for no other reason than that they could.

Eponine was walking towards him. Nick had to admit she was a striking girl…black curly hair, full face, olive-toned skin, and animated brown eyes. She was dressed in one of those empire shirts that made women look pregnant (why they were fashionable beat the hell of Nick), fitted jeans, and high heels.

Following behind was Charlie, a Berenese Mountain Dog with a black body, a feather duster of a black tail, and a brown and white face. He looked to be about 110 lbs, and when he stood up on his hind legs he was about five feet tall.

"Hey you!" She smiled brightly.

He smiled back and set down the cereal bowl.

"So how have you been the past few days?" she asked as the dog walked over and buried his face in the cereal bowl.

"Charlie, that's rude!" she scolded.

"Naw it's okay. I was done," Nick said, and then continued. "Good. I've been sleeping pretty much the whole day."

"I've noticed you haven't been out much," she commented.

"You notice everything about your neighbours?" Nick asked her wryly.

She laughed. "Well, if you have to know, you are the talk of the neighbours around here, particularly the single moms. You know, a single guy in this park doesn't stand a chance."

"Well, I guess I'll have to be careful then," Nick told her, sipping on his drink.

"Well, they're harmless…lonely, but harmless," she said, folding her arms.

"I'm sure they are…lonely and harmless," he said, watching the big-as-a-mule dog lapping the bowl until it flipped over.

"How's the trailer?" Eponine asked.

"Nice. It's clean, simple," Nick answered, staring at her and noticing she was a real cutie.

"Yeah, they took pretty good care of it. Mr. and Mrs. Benson…nice couple, gone to visit their daughter for a few months to help her with the new baby."

"How's your daughter?" Nick asked, having noticed the pixie-faced lassie with brown curly hair, blue eyes…tall and lean, like bean pole.

"Oh she's okay. She's tired right now. It's a long day for her."

"What grade is she in?"

"She'll be finishing grade 3."

Nick looked away and smiled.

"Do you have any kids, Mr. Stokes?" Eponine asked.

"Is that for your knowledge or for the moms?"

"Both."

"No, I don't have kids…or least none that I'm aware of." He threw a devilish smile. "No, in case anyone is wondering, I'm not married, never been married, but not ruling it out, just not at the moment."

"Well," Eponine laughed, a hearty contagious one, "that's going to make everyone happy here."

"Do you know all your tenants?" Nick asked, sipping on his energy drink.

"Of course, I'm the property manager," she answered, looking puzzled. "Why?"

"Did some guy move in here a few months ago? A shady looking character?"

"Oh, yes, him." Eponine nodded, figuring out who Nick meant, and sighed in disgust. "We don't see him much, which is good because he gives everyone the creeps. I don't know much about him, but I wish he'd move. I'm trying to find reasons to evict him, but so far he's been the perfect tenant, unfortunately." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why do you want to know?"

"I just noticed the other day when I took a walk, a quick one to catch some fresh air, that he just seems out of place here."

"Like you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows quizzically.

"Yeah, like me, but I hope nobody thinks I'm creepy."

"Not yet." She smiled playfully at him.

Nick laughed and shook his head.

"Listen, do you want to get together with some of us?" she asked, looking hopeful.

Nick stared at her in surprise and then asked, "Didn't you say I didn't stand a chance here?"

"Well, I don't hang out with those girls. No, my brother and Mr. and Mrs. Riley…they're a nice older couple…we play pool over at Ruby's, the bar near the park."

Nick hemmed and hawed. "I don't know. I'm just kind of taking it easy."

"Oh come on, have some fun with us," she insisted.

Why not? He'd been living like a hermit for awhile, and it would be okay because none of them knew him or his past. It would be great to be around people again.

"What time?" Nick asked.

"Seven o'clock. Mrs. Riley is the designated driver."

"Oh, I can't drink right now." He picked up the discarded bowl that the dog finished.

"Okay, well you can meet us there."

Nick nodded. "Okay…see you guys then."

XxXXxx

Grissom and Detective Brass sat across from Charles Smith and John McVeigh. One had been brought to the police station via the jail system. The other came in from out of town where he was living in some trailer park. Flanked on either side of them were their respective lawyers. McVeigh's looked like a hobbit from "Lord of the Rings", Frodo in fact, and the other looked like he came straight out of a Harry Potter novel. Who was that professor? Snape!

"With all due respect, Detective Brass," Snape's twin, Mr. Victor Dion, said slowly and methodically with a slight French accent (in fact, he was French Canadian), "you have nothing to prove dees rumours that prompted this pseudo investigation."

"Really. A rag with the victim's -- whose name, I might add, we have to be made aware of -- DNA on it?" Frodo's twin, Mr. James Anderson, said looking through the file.

"The victim has a right to privacy," Grissom said.

"The accused here have a right to confront their victim," Mr. Dion retorted.

Grissom looked toward the two-way mirror and back again. "The victim is unavailable at the moment."

They had tried earnestly to get in touch with Nick, but he hadn't returned any of their calls and his parents knew nothing of his whereabouts, much to their concern. The team had remained calm and figured Nick needed time alone.

"Why didn't you guys go back to your cell that day?" Grissom asked. "I always thought there was something odd about the fact that the day Conrad Noir was murdered you both were completely unaware that there was a lockdown."

"What does Mr. Noir's murder have to do with this so-called sexual assault allegation?" Mr. Anderson asked. "We're talking about two entirely different cases, neither of which do you have enough evidence to continue to harass our clients. My client has paid the price for his crime and is now on parole."

"Mr. McVeigh?" Brass smiled. "Boy we know a lot about you. We know you had it in for a certain 'judge's boy' because of what his daddy did to you when you were kid. You're not one for taking responsibility for your actions, so your silence doesn't surprise me in the least. What surprises me is what I hear you did to this person."

"Judge's boy?" Dion asked. "Who are we talking about?"

McVeigh leaned over and whispered in his lawyer's ear, who nodded. He straightened up. "My client remembers seeing this person in the library, but they stayed clear of him because they knew if he saw them they'd be in trouble."

"Right, and I'm Mother Theresa!" Brass quipped.

"Look!" Dion's accent was becoming more pronounced. "You have insufficicent evidence here to prove either of your claims, so this meeting ees a waste of my time and my client's time and da public's time."

"Yeah that's right, use the taxpayer as an excuse to get your client out of trouble," Brass scoffed.

Grissom excused himself from the table and walked out to the lobby where his friend, Deputy District Attorney Maddie Klein, waited, still wearing the black evening gown she wore to the Policeman's Ball. But she had come when she received his call. She owed him a favour, and after the rag found in Charles Smith's drawer turned up with DNA from saliva matching to Nick, he placed a call to her and carefully explained their theory. In turn, Maddie set about putting together a file under the name 'John Doe' and reluctantly proceeded to build a case.

"What do you think?" Grissom asked her.

"The lawyers are right, Grissom. You don't have a lot of evidence other then a rumor and a rag."

"They used the rag to gag Nick."

"We don't know that. We need more evidence that an attack took place, and even then, Grissom, I'd be much more comfortable pursuing this with Mr. Stokes' side of the story. It's very, very hard for men to admit to being attacked like this," Maddie explained.

Grissom licked his lips and shook his head in frustration. "Nick has Hepatitis B, and both of them have Hepatitis B."

"Could be a coincidence. Do you have full knowledge of Nick's sex life?" she asked.

"No, of course I have no knowledge of his sex life," Grissom balked. "And I really don't want to know."

"I mean, he could have contracted it from that hooker he slept with or other hookers he's slept with. Seems he likes waitresses and hookers from what I hear."

"Please don't disrespect my team like that, Maddie. They've had their issues, but they work through them. Nick just solved that little girl's murder, and he did it while seriously ill." Grissom looked at her in frustration. Klein was such a judgmental bitch at times, and while he admired her skill Grissom found that part about her very difficult to deal with.

"I'm sorry," she said, and she meant it. "I'm very sorry. You're right. But again, Grissom, I need more evidence to prove a case against them for this and the Conrad Noir case. Until then, they can go."

Grissom reluctantly agreed and together they went back and informed the parties of such. They joyfully filed out of the interrogation room. McVeigh headed straight for his car, while a corrections van waited for Smith.

Catherine strolled around the corner, catching sight of the departure, and walked up to Grissom and Klein. She had cut her conference short after getting an e-mail from Grissom about the rumour in the prison. On her way back on the plane, she made the resolute decision to take the case on no matter what Grissom said. Nick needed her. She couldn't be there for him when he was a little kid and she was a teenager running rampant in Vegas, but now she could be and she was determined to do this.

"You got nothing out of them?" She asked, mouth tight.

"Nothing substantial," Grissom told her, noticing how tired and jetlagged she looked. She was in jeans and a tight red shirt, her hair in a pony tail.

"Where is Nick anyway?" Catherine asked.

"I don't know," Grissom said, looking at the file titled "John Doe".

"Shouldn't we put out an APB?" Catherine asked, eyebrows raised, arms folded.

"Do we need to?" Grissom asked. "Maybe we should just let him be."

"Grissom's right. Let's wait until he's back from sick leave and deal with this," Maddie said. "Smith's not going anywhere, and McVeigh has to report weekly to his parole officer."

Catherine didn't agree, because she had a gut feeling about all this. Nick's bizarre behaviour these past four months, the Hepatitis B, and the reluctance to even hear the words 'prison case' all added up to something of which she herself couldn't put a finger on, but now it all made sense. She was sickened with the news, but relieved that now there was a source -- a source that could be dealt with.

"Grissom, I want this case." She stared squarely at him like a bull challenging a matador and ready to gore no matter what.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he said blankly and looked at Maddie who wisely chose to stay silent.

"Why not?" Catherine challenged.

"Because of your recent ordeal," Grissom told her.

"Stop protecting me, Gil!" Catherine warned. "I want this case. Greg can work with me on it."

"You know, Grissom," Maddie piped up, despite it not being wise, "I think it would be easier on Nick if a woman was leading this. Male victims often feel too humiliated to talk about their attack with another man…fearful of judgment."

"Nick knows I would never judge him," Grissom said defensively.

"With all due respect, Gil, you've never had an easy relationship with Nick," Catherine said, to his shock. "Now don't look at me like that. You know as well as I do that Nick looked to you as some sort of father figure and spent years trying to earn praise from you until I finally told him just to let it go and do his job. I know Nick better than you, and in fact I know things about him that nobody else knows, none of which are relevant to this case, but all I'm saying is that I can probably convince him to even press charges. I know how to reach him because I know how he ticks."

Grissom sighed heavily and looked at Maddie who nodded in agreement. "Okay, you'll take the lead and Greg will work with you. I'll work with Warrick on the prison murder case, and we'll see where this all takes us."

"Okay!" Maddie smiled. "Then let's start digging."

xxXXxx

Walking through the trailer park at night was creepy, even for a tough Texan like him, but Nick could handle it. The bugs pissed him off though and creeped him out. Then there was the various wildlife about...their beady little eyes watching him from the bushes as the crickets chirped away.

As he passed each trailer he could hear various sounds: babies crying themselves to sleep; TVs blaring the news and realty shows; the familiar beeping of MSN. And then he found one trailer that was dark and quiet. Nick had heard a rumour that the local Sheriff had picked up him and taken him somewhere.

Nick studied the darkened trailer, empty with the exception of a black, plastic chair. While most of the trailers had small gardens, this one had nothing but dirt in front of it. Unknowingly, Eponine had blurted out the description of his trailer at the bar while they played darts that night.

Surprisingly, Nick had a good time with the crew. Her brother, Lee, was in fact her twin brother and had come back from Iraq with severe head injuries. His wife had left him, unable to cope with the stress. Mr. and Mrs. Riley reminded Nick of the Ropers from "Three's Company" except they seemed to love each other very much. Mr. Riley was a retired school teacher, while Mrs. Riley was a Public Health Nurse. She took notice of his skin color which had faded somewhat.

"Have you been ill?" she had asked.

"Oh God, Marge, don't be so damn nosy!" her husband barked.

"It's okay," Nick said. "I've been sick, but I was lucky and will probably make a full recovery."

"Oh that's good," she said. "Let me know if you need anything, Nick."

He smiled and said thanks.

"Well, well, well!" a saucy voice said.

Nick spun around and saw Eponine dressed in a down-filled blue vest with jeans and a sweat shirt. He gulped and smiled innocently under the black leather coat he wore. Charlie ran up to him and stood on two feet, dancing around before bouncing around barking.

"Charlie! Shhhhh!" Eponine motioned to the dog to come back over before turning her gaze on Nick. "What are you doing?" she glared.

"I'm just taking a walk."

"Through the trailer park?" Eponine looked at him curiously.

"Why not?" Nick smiled, hands shoved into his pockets.

"Are you spying on someone?" She folded her arms.

"You could say that." Nick turned his back on her.

"Oh yes, Mr. McVeigh, the creepy neighbour I was telling you about."

"Has he caused any trouble?"

"Not enough to get evicted, unfortunately." Eponine walked up beside him and stared at the trailer.

They were quiet for a minute until Nick finally said, "I'm going to go back. I'm sorry if I caused trouble."

"No," she told him, "I'm glad somebody other then me is watching him. He's a really strange guy. He goes off somewhere during the day and then is back like clockwork at dusk. Apparently he's a parolee, although his crime was not sexually based."

Nick took a deep breath and thought, "Or so he never admitted. Or made sure no one ever told. Then he said, "As far as you know."

"Is there something I should know, Nick?" Eponine asked him.

"I can't be certain," Nick lied and then changed the subject. "I can walk you back to your trailer."

"No, I'm fine. I've got Charlie." The dog looked at them, hearing his name.

"Oh yeah, your dancing dog," Nick said, amused. "He'll dance the daylights out of a murderer."

"Oh leave my dog alone." She glared but still smiled. "He's a good guard dog."

"Yeah I'm sure," Nick said smirking.

"Okay, well I'll let you be the gentlemen and walk us back to my trailer. My brother and Stephanie have turned in for the night, and I'm just up studying."

"Studying?" Nick asked. "For what?"

"For my Ph.D." She smiled.

"Oh." Nick was surprised, and then heard Sara's voice criticizing him about stereotyping trailer park inhabitants.

"I'm studying to become a therapist," Eponine proudly told him.

Nick looked at her. "Really?!"

"Really!" she retorted. "What…you think I just run a trailer park?"

"What kind of therapy? Abused kids…abused women?"

"Oh, sexual therapy," she answered matter of factly.

Nick almost choked when he heard the words. "Oh...uh...okay!" he laughed.

"Yeah, I get that a lot." She shook her head laughing, "I usually tell them that I'm going to be a psychotherapist, but I don't add on that part."

"But you did with me because…?" Nick searched for an answer.

"Oh I don't know. There are some people I'm more comfortable telling and others I'm not. I just get a vibe from you that it's alright to tell you this."

"I'm glad I give off some positive vibes," Nick mumbled and then asked, "So what are you learning about? What's your thesis?"

"The healing powers of sex." She looked at him to gauge a response.

Nick was glad for the dark as he could feel himself turning twenty shades of red. He continued to ask questions. "And does sex heal things?"

"It can."

"Oh. Well that makes me think of that Marvin Gaye song."

"Well, that's not what I'm gearing at. I'm looking at it as healing people psychologically and emotionally."

"Hmm..." Nick said and continued, "well, sex can also be traumatizing for some people."

"That's not sex, that's power," she said, figuring out what he was getting at.

"Yeah, I see a lot in my field." They were getting close to her trailer where a small garden had been planted, a barbecue stood by, and a patio set beckoned.

"So what do you do at LVPD? You said you weren't exactly a cop." She stood in front of him with her hands in the pockets of her vest.

"I'm in the forensics area. I solve crimes using science," he explained.

"Oh, like that show on TV?" Eponine asked, impressed.

"Yeah, but we don't do it in an hour. It can take days, weeks, and sometimes months depending on how much evidence you find."

Eponine smiled. "Sounds interesting. So why aren't you there now?"

"I'm on sick leave," he told her. "I've…got Hepatitis B." Nick couldn't believe how much his mouth had betrayed him at that moment, and he wished for some Crazy Glue to seal it.

Fortunately, Eponine looked at him sadly. "Sorry to hear that. Is it chronic?"

"Don't know that yet," Nick told her. "I go back to Vegas tomorrow to check in with the doctor to see how things are going."

"Well good luck, and let me know if you need anything. And you know Mrs. Riley is nearby if you have any problems."

"Can we keep this conversation a secret?" Nick asked. "I just really don't want too many people to know about me in general."

"Absolutely," she answered. "I don't gossip much with the ladies here. It just leads to trouble." Eponine started to walk up the small steps to the door of her trailer, Charlie behind her. "Thanks for walking Charlie and me home. Take it easy, Nick."

"Yeah, you too." He watched the door close and walked away.

He got back to his own trailer and went inside. He was exhausted and knew he'd done too much today. He was feeling it, and now he needed to crawl into a warm bed and sleep.

He checked his cell phone and found a message on there from Mandy. Probably wanting to let me know about George's escapades, he thought. Instead he got, "I know you're not in Texas. Why did you lie to me? What's really going on with you, Nick?"

He swallowed hard, and for a minute he wasn't sure what to say. He'd been caught in a lie and was unsure of how to handle it. So instead he texted her back, "How do you know I'm not in Texas? What's going on?"

Mandy heard her phone beep letting her know a message was there. It was from Nick, and instead of answering her question he asked her one. Figures. How did she know? She overheard Warrick and Catherine talking in the hallway about how they tried to contact Nick at his parents' and were told he wasn't there and that his parents were overseas for their anniversary.

Should she tell him? No, let him stew in his lie, she thought. She simply texted backed, "You lied to me! Your cat is fine. But when you get back I want nothing to do with you ever again."

Nick received the message and felt a sinking feeling in him that reeked of guilt. He went to his computer to check his e-mail, hoping Sara had written him back. She hadn't.

For the first time in weeks, Nick started to feel an emotion he didn't know he still had -- loneliness. Back in Vegas he long ago put a wall up to keep people out, starting with Nigel Crane, then after his burial, and definitely after his attack.

Now he was alone. Alone in a trailer park with a revenge plan, unsure of how to carry it out, but he began to wonder whether it was worth it or not. McVeigh's attack on him left irreversible damage, but would taking care of him and Smith be worth it? Someone would find out he did it; someone would know he did it. How many crimes had he solved where the criminal was 100 per cent sure he had done it cleanly?

Now that it looked like his plan was coming to fruition, was Nick starting to choke? Was it loneliness? It was an emotion he felt often, but he knew he was a lone wolf by choice. Who would want to spend time with him now? He was tainted. Damaged goods.

"I'm a sad sack of shit!" he mumbled to himself as he hung his leather jacket on a hook near the door.

The effects of revenge are irreversible. Nick sat on the chair thinking deeply about revenge. McVeigh embarked on a revenge campaign against him in such a vile way that the effects on him were irreversible. Hell, he'd interviewed many, many rape victims. They were traumatized beyond belief, and then they had to go through the trauma of testifying at trial and reliving the horror again and again for the purpose of justice, leaving unbelievable damage to their being.

Irreversible damage. Nick considered himself irreversibly damaged by McVeigh's vile act. He would never recover, never feel healed, never love again, never have sex again, and never be his old self again. What was the point of even trying to have any relations with a woman? All he did was hurt them or piss them off because his body couldn't stand having anything close to it.

All the more reason that Nick needed to stay away from the lab. His gut told him that the team knew or were beginning to find out, and he couldn't face them. He couldn't face it.

He had visited Dr. Zayid the previous day anxious to hear if he was clear of the Hepatitis B virus.

"_Your enzymes are still very high Nick. That's to be expected at this point. This is a long recovery Nick."_

"_I'm just worried it's going to become chronic?"_

"_Well, that's a possibility Nick, but even then there's medication for it. It's not like 20 years ago when the news was grim. People still die from it, but that's not as common. As I said to you when you first were diagnose, you're fairly young and healthy, so I don't see this becoming chronic." Dr. Zayid said earnestly._

"_What if I have HIV?" Nick asked feeling his stomach twist in knots at the thought._

"_Well, we'll have to wait and see Nick; you have to let this run its course. Take car of yourself. Are you seeing the therapist that I recommended?"_

"_No."_

"_Stress can exasperate your condition." Dr. Zayid said shaking his head in frusteration._

"_I'll go. Soon." Nick promised._

As he pondered the ramifications of his attack, Nick realized that if and when Warrick, Grissom, and Brass found out, they'd never look at him the same. Oh sure, they would be sympathetic and would try to be supportive, but it would be different. He knew this because if it was one of the others, he would feel differently about them. Sad to say, even Nick was not above passing critical judgment on victims, thinking they brought on their own problems.

As he walked into the bedroom to head into bed, he text-messaged Mandy once more with three words: _"_Please forgive me."

Mandy sat up in bed, hearing a beep on her cell phone and flipped it open to see who text-messaged her at this hour. She read it and felt the anger take hold of her as she typed. "I forgive you, but leave me alone. You're a user and a player. Guys like you make me sick to my stomach and I want nothing more to do with you because I fucking hate YOU Nick Stokes!! You're a first class asshole!!"

After she sent the message, tears formed in Mandy's eyes because what she said was a lie. Well, Nick was a player and a user, and he dabbled with waitresses and hookers almost 20 years younger then he, but she didn't hate him and this pissed her off more. She tossed the cell phone to the floor before she could inflict more nastiness on him, then listened as George started tossing the phone around with his paw and wondered if she would be searching for it in the morning.

Nick read the message as he sat on the bed, clad in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, his mouth forming into a deep frown with each nasty word that pierced his heart deeply like a butcher knife. Then he turned off the flowered lamp and laid there fighting tears. He slid his hand under the pillow and felt the Glock, entertaining the idea of blowing his head off. Nobody would miss a tainted player, user, and first class asshole.

"A working class hero is something I'm not," he said to himself, reflecting on the lyrics of the Green Day/Lennon tune. "A first class asshole, that's for sure."

Then he took his hand out from under the pillow and chased the dark thought out of his head before sleep enveloped him, not because he didn't want to, but because his Hepatitis B or a positive HIV test would do the work for him. God saved him the trouble.

_**a/n: I named Eponine's daughter Stephanie long before 'For Gedda'.**_

_**I'm also mad at the writers and decided to really kick the crap out of Nick emotionally in this chapter.**_

_**When I was configuring a life saver/lover for Nick, I based the character of Eponine on Sara Ramiraz from 'Grey's Anatomy'. I love the character of Calleigh and the actress who plays her.**_

_**The name I chose from the book 'Les Miserables'. A tragic character who gets caught up in an unrequited love scenario.**_


	8. Chapter 8

**IRREVERSIBLE**

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

_Well I was as shocked by the finale as everyone else was._

_So now my story is total A/U now. I can't imagine CSI without Warrick._

Thanks to Smokey for her edits and keen eyes!

_I am hiding from some beast  
But the beast was always here  
Watching without eyes  
Because the beast is just my fear  
That I am just nothing  
Now it's just what I've become  
What am I waiting for  
It's already done_

_Believe-The Bravery_

Catherine, Greg, and Brass checked in through security at the prison and waited to be escorted in. The doors buzzed as they walked through with Catherine determinedly leading the way.

It had been over two weeks since they started the investigation, and nothing from Smith's cell had turned up any conclusive evidence, so Catherine told Greg they were going to have to start from ground zero: the library.

"I don't think there's anything left," Greg told her as Mr. Cowell, the assistant director, met them and led them in.

"Well, not anything obvious, Greg," Catherine said as they were led through a different hall leading to the library so as to avoid exposing Catherine to sex-hungry prisoners. The scent of bleach filled their nostrils as their footsteps echoed down the dark hallways.

The prison guards were inside waiting for them. Catherine had asked O'Flynn how he was going to keep any information they came upon discreet.

"I'll have my lead guards in there...Patty MacPherson and Jason Chang." He pointed to a slim older woman in her fifties and a chubby Asian man in his late twenties, both of whom nodded.

"Make sure they agree to keep this secret," Catherine warned in a steely voice.

"They've signed contracts, and Mr. Cowell will be there," Mr. O'Flynn had assured her. "He's been suspicious of this for a long time, and I chose the guards based on his recommendations."

"Good. We can go over the day he found Nick," said the blonde criminalist.

After setting their kits down, Catherine turned to Cowell, noticing what an attractive man he was and that he did look exactly like Barack Obama. She smiled flirtatiously at him.

"Where did you find Nick?"

"Over by that reading table. There was a chair knocked over." Mr. Cowell returned the smile.

Catherine was secretly delighted to see that he wore no wedding ring, and she made a mental note to ask for his number before they left. She walked over and knelt down, looking at the chocolate brown carpet. "When was the last time these carpets were cleaned?"

"Oh, long before the lockdown. They're not due to be cleaned for about three months. Budget only allows us to do it twice a year."

Catherine looked at the table and painfully imagined insidious acts being done on her colleague. But this needed to be done. She opened her eyes and said in a choked voice, "Greg, bring the ALS light over and the goggles."

Greg brought the tiny light over and whispered, "Do you think there's anything left?"

"How often are these tables cleaned?" she asked Cowell.

"Daily," he answered.

She whispered to Greg, "It's worth a shot. Depends on how long it was before they cleaned it." She called over to the guards, "Can you turn off the lights please?"

The blue light shone over the table, and to her dismay she found nothing, so the light went under the table and highlighted stains on the carpet. Without waiting to be asked, Greg leaned down and took a swab of them, but Catherine told him to take a knife and actually cut the pieces out, telling the guards to send the bill for replacing it to the Under Sheriff.

Cowell smiled. "Hey, I hate the carpet anyway. It's butt ugly if you ask me."

Catherine smiled a smile that lit up the room. "Well, its government. They go for the ugliest and cheapest."

"Not always," Cowell said pointedly, staring directly at her, making her weak in the knees.

Greg rolled his eyes while bagging the piece of carpet.

The fifty-something guard spoke up, "You know, every time I'm in this part of the library I keep smelling something from behind the photocopier. I've been too scared to look. Thought it was a dead rat or something."

Catherine strolled over and looked behind the copier. She groaned, almost sick to her stomach. "Oh that's great. Your cleaning crew isn't very thorough." She held up a garbage pail. "Dried vomit." She looked at Greg who was signing his initials on the carpet sample. "This is a job for a Level One."

"My pleasure," Greg answered sarcastically. He walked by the check out desk and out of the corner of his eye spotted something wedged in between the computer and the desk. The computer was fitted into a specially made hole. "Catherine, can you grab that in between the desk and the computer?"

The blonde criminalist went over to where Greg was pointing and looked. "Tissues. That's weird."

"Couldn't have been the librarian. She's a total neat freak," the female guard said.

"Well bag it, Greg. You never know."

On the way back to the lab, Catherine felt somewhat elated, however she didn't get that feeling from Greg. In fact, she got the impression that he didn't want to know anything.

"You know why I took this case Greg?" she asked as they drove along the stretch of highway, the sun beaming down on them.

"Because you care about Nick," he answered blankly.

"Well, that's one of the reasons, but there's another reason and it's all got to do with gender."

"You think being a woman helps."

"I think that the three of you…Grissom, Warrick and you…are not coping with this as well. If it were me, you'd all be in a hub supporting me, but because it's Nick you've all turned away. I think, in fact, that is why finding out what really happened there has taken as long as it has."

"You think we're slowing down the investigation on purpose?" Greg asked incredulously.

"I don't think you are doing it consciously, Greg, but I believe that none of you want to know the truth. None of you can deal with this because it all goes back to gender. It's not supposed to happen to men, and when it does that man is tainted. Nick is tainted in your eyes now, Greg."

"No, it wasn't his fault." Greg squirmed uncomfortably as images of what possibly happened to Nick ran through his head.

"On a conscious level, you acknowledge that. On a subconscious level none of you will ever look at him the same way again. Admit it, Greg."

Greg bit his lower lip and finally nodded. "I can't look at Nick ever again the same way."

Catherine sighed. "Well, at least you're man enough to admit it. I don't think Warrick or Grissom or even Brass will ever admit it. You'll pretend to be there for him, but Nick's not a stupid guy. He'll figure it out. Why do you think he's gone AWOL? He already knows that something's up, and he knows that you guys are gonna treat him like he's tainted. And that sucks. It wasn't his fault. He didn't ask for this to happen! He made decisions about his safety that were not wise, but he didn't deserve what happened to him. That is, if it did, and my hunch says it did."

Greg was silent, and Catherine decided that before her anger rose any further, causing her to say some things that she'd regret, it was time to turn on the radio. When she got back to the lab she was going to deal with Warrick first, then Grissom, and by the time she was done with them they were going to feel like pure mud. Nick needed support and understanding right now, not judgment.

xxXXxx

Nick sat outside Eponine's trailer with her brother, Lee, and the Rileys, enjoying a barbecued dinner that she'd insisted he come to, and he had readily agreed as a way of getting out of the trailer so he wouldn't think too much about McVeigh.

The food was great…chicken wings, Caesar salad, garden salad, chocolate pie…and the music was not too bad. Nick couldn't place the band but recognized the ska sounds mixed with a singer that reminded him of Robert Smith of The Cure.

"What did you say this band is called?" Nick asked Eponine as she set the table while her brother, an exact twin except with blonde hair, barbecued.

"The Bravery," she answered.

"Yeah, my sister is all into this alternative stuff," Lee muttered. "Give me some good ole rock any day."

"I'm a mood ring," Nick said. "Whatever the moment, I have the music for it."

"Really?" Eponine said, surprised. "Figured you'd like the twangy stuff."

"Oh, some of it is okay," Nick said. "Some of it I could do without."

"I like that song "Lucky Too" by Bob Neuwith," Mr. Riley said, digging into the chicken wings.

Nick didn't say anything because that was the song that played the night he was buried alive. After that, he never played the song again.

_It was Christmas in Las Vegas._

_Blackness, green lights._

"_Put your gun in your mouth and pull the trigger."_

"Deeeep thoughts…" Eponine said in a sing-song, deep voice, her eyes wide. "Having a Jack Handy moment, Nick?"

Nick laughed. "Yeah, I think I'll go carve a jack-o-lantern, stick a knife in it, and leave it on this guy I work with, Hodges', doorstep with a note on it saying 'You'. Then I'd ring the doorbell and run off."

"No harm done!" Lee said. "There are a lot of people I'd like to do that to."

"Yeah…McVeigh!" Eponine mumbled.

"Don't get me started on that man!" Mrs. Riley exclaimed.

"Been giving anyone trouble?" Nick asked, his eyebrows raised in interest.

"No, not as far as we know. But he's been down at Ruby's a lot making some big trouble, cursing up a storm, trying to pick fights." Mr. Riley shook his head. "Turning that place into a dive."

"Bartender's afraid of him because he's a parolee," Mrs. Riley explained.

"He's got a right to turn away patrons," Nick said.

"Well, he's a bit of a chicken shit!" Lee said. "So we're not going back until he gets the point."

"Probably a good idea to stay away from there and McVeigh," Nick said. "He's not safe."

"You know this for a fact, Nick?" Eponine asked him, her dark brown eyes wide with interest.

"I've dealt with him in the past, but nothing serious." Nick ducked his head down and scooped up some potato salad.

The conversation grew quiet until Stephanie danced around and asked the Texan to play soccer with her.

"Well, I'm not that great at it, but what the heck?"

He played for a bit and then found himself limping back to the picnic table with Eponine while Lee took over. He was tired still from his illness.

"So McVeigh called me today," Eponine told him as the Rileys had joined the game and the two of them were alone.

"Did he now?" Nick set his foot on the bench and rubbed it.

"Claims a dark-haired guy was spying on him the other night," Eponine explained.

Nick looked up at her.

"What were you up to?" Eponine asked him.

"Just keeping an eye on him." The Texan looked away.

"Why? What did he ever do to you, Nick?"

"There are some criminals that seem to always get away, Eponine, and he's one of them," he explained to her.

"Well, if there's something more I should know, I'd like to hear it."

"No, there isn't," Nick said solidly, not wanting to get any more into it.

_Whimpering came from somewhere. Was there a puppy in the room? Nick tried to look up from the table to find the puppy. It needed help, but his head was firmly planted on the table and the steel of the gun pressed into his temple._

_Where's the puppy, dammit?! Where the fuck is it? He tried to call to it to run away, but there was something in his mouth._

_The puppy stopped whimpering and was replaced by the sound of a child singing in a voice so beautiful, yet so haunting._

_An angel in the room?_

Nick's brown eyes popped open and he gasped for air. His arms were straight down at his sides as if he were dead.

_Was he? Had he died? Was he in heaven? Oh wait, he's Nick Stokes. Heaven is not where he'd be going when he bit the dust, for the devil would be waiting for him at the elevator door asking, "Going down_?"

Nick rolled his head from side to side as a tingling sensation started to trickle from his shoulders to his fingers and eventually down through his legs and straight to his toes.

He was alive, but the singing kept going, making him wonder if he was losing his mind…or whatever was left of it.

_I know a place where no one's lost_

_I know a place where no one cries_

_Crying at all is not allowed_

_Not in my castle in a cloud._

Nick sat up and realized the angelic voice was outside his trailer, so he peeked out the window and saw Stephanie sitting off on a tree stump…singing to the dog. To the dog? The dog was sitting patiently, wrapped in a blanket, while the little girl wore a beret, a white raggedy shirt, shawl, and a long blue skirt. She was bending over and covering her face in dirt.

Her voice took on a higher octave as she sang to the dog, "Please do not send me out alone, not in the darkness on my own." Then she changed her voice and made it more gruff. "Enough, I told you to go get some water and I'm being awfully nice."

Nick bit his lip, laughing at the melodrama of the youngster as she pretended to sweep around the dog who took this all in stride.

Relieved somewhat that there was a source to the singing and not his grey matter making a permanent check out like Homer Simpsons' brain did when the oafish character didn't listen to his brain and his brain replied, "That's it! I'm out of here!" and stomped off with a door closing behind it. Well, that's how the Texan felt about his brain right now. It wanted to check out of his body with a wave of its hand bidding, 'Adieu'.

Nick yawned and pulled himself out of bed. Still in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, he started outside to catch some fresh air. Just as he opened the door, there stood Eponine.

"Oh hey!" She smiled. "Am I bothering you?"

"Oh…uh, no. I was watching the entertainment outside my window." He motioned to Stephanie.

"Oh God." Eponine looked around and said, "Steph...can you and Charlie do your little play somewhere else? You're bothering Mr. Stokes."

Stephanie turned around, her brown eyes looking nervously at Nick. "Sorry mom!"

"No, it's okay," Nick chuckled. "She's a good singer. She can really belt a tune."

"Yeah, she's got that going for her. She's rehearsing for her part…Les Miserables. The play is this afternoon. She's got the role of Cossette, a little peasant girl." Eponine grinned with pride. "She beat out twenty other kids for the role."

"Oh wow!" Nick said. "That's great! So she was rehearsing with the dog…was he Jean Valjean? Or Monsier Thernadier?"

"Well, I'm busy at the moment, or I would have helped her with her lines. I have the privilege of playing Madame Thernadier and Jean Valjean." Eponine studied him. "And you know about these characters?"

"Oh, I read Less Miserable in high school," Nick said, wrinkling his face at the memory of reading that god-awful, long, and depressing book. "Part of a credit I needed to earn."

"I like how you put it…Less Miserable," Eponine snickered.

"I don't speak French," Nick replied. "Spanish, but not French."

"Oh, my mother is Spanish and my father is British. So I'm a good mixture. But I'm here on official business. I thought I'd save you a walk and get that rent cheque off you."

"Oh." Nick invited her in. "I forgot. Sorry. I'll get that for you."

She stepped in and watched as he quickly went over to his carry on bag that he used for trips and pulled out a cheque book. He began to write the amount while she scanned the trailer. Nick couldn't help but notice that the shirt she wore today showed a bit of cleavage. Interesting. He couldn't help but stare at her, hoping she wasn't noticing, but she caught him looking. He quickly went back to the book, but caught her smile out of the corner of his eye. Whew, that was a close one.

"Well, you've kept it clean. I'm sure they'll be happy with that," Eponine observed

"I'm not doing much to make it messy," Nick snorted.

"Well, I think they'll be happy with that."

"Good. Glad to hear it." The Texan ripped off the cheque and handed it over to her, noticing that she looked rather nervous. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "Is there something you wanted to ask me?"

She squirmed uncomfortably and then came out with it. "Listen, would you consider taking me on a mercy date?" Her eyes looked hopeful and panicked. "I know we just met a few weeks ago, but I'm in a crunch."

"Like, you need one?" Nick asked, amused, folding his arms and rubbing his scraggly chin.

"Yeah, well, my original friend, well he bailed on me. He got himself caught up with some 23 year old waitress." She muttered the age, making Nick smile. "And I got stuck with these tickets I won in a raffle to see Queen's 'We Will Rock You' in Vegas."

She looked pitiful for a second. "You could do a girl a favour."

Nick shrugged. "When?"

"Tomorrow night. It starts at 8:00 p.m."

"I've got an appointment in Vegas. I should be back by then, but I don't really have proper clothes. I only brought jeans and t-shirts."

"Oh, you can borrow one of my brother's outfits. You guys are about the same size."

Nick shoved his hands into his pajama pant pockets and agreed. "Okay, I'll go. I like Queen. Especially after Wayne's World."

Eponine laughed. "Classic. The Bohemian Rhapsody scene."

"Yeah, reminds me of my youth, riding around with my rocker friends like that, bugging rich guys in limos about mustard," Nick said, handing her the cheque while remembering easier times in his life.

"I don't picture you as a rocker! More of a preppie," she snorted at him.

"Oh, I hung out with all kinds of people. I was kind of dependable." Nick sighed. "Hey, go easy on your friend there with the waitress. I mean, sometimes guys our age gotta get middle aged angst out of our system, you know what I mean?"

"And women don't?" Eponine said. "You know what it's like seeing guys our age frolicking with these young women? Makes me feel like I should be put out to Pasteur."

"You? Hardly," Nick answered. "Actually, my boss is 50 and the girl he was with was 35. It was kind of weird actually."

"There you go!"

"Well, they seemed happy," Nick pondered. "Maybe you have to have the angst." Then he wished he had shut up.

"I have my share of angst, but I deal with it." She scrunched her face up and walked out the door. "See you later. I'll drop by with some of my brother's shirts and pants. I'm going to help Stephanie rehearse…unless you want to do it? You can be Jean Valjean, the hero of the story."

"Uh," Nick rubbed the back of his head, "my singing will give y'all nightmares, and I think I'd be the guy who hunted Jean Valjean."

"But then you'd commit suicide!" Eponine exclaimed.

"Yeah, well, we all gotta go sometime, don't we?" Nick shrugged and noticed the strange look he got from her before she said, "See you later, Nick, and thanks for the mercy date."

After she left he walked over to his cell phone. He'd had it on vibrate since he arrived here, not wanting contact with anyone. He scrolled through the menu and found out he had about 10 messages. His heart sank as he went about listening to them. They were all from Catherine.

"Nick, it's Catherine. I really, really need to talk to you. Please call me. It's important."

"Nick, it's Cat. I don't know what is going on, but I know you're going through something, and please trust me…I can help you with whatever it is."

He erased them and decided to go for his daily 'walk' to check out his most un-favorite person in the world right now. So far, McVeigh had been on a solid schedule…gets up, goes to work at a car dump, and then comes home.

He went to his suitcase and pulled out some Chinos and a hoodie, put them on, and went on his walk. Nick had found a little wooded area near McVeigh's trailer, and with binoculars in tow he quietly stood behind a tree and watched. He had a day off today. Interesting.

The door opened and McVeigh walked out. The sight of him struck fear into Nick's heart, and it took a minute before he finally grappled it and continued to watch the jerk. He squatted down in the bushes and looked through his binoculars. A chipmunk came up and sniffed him, and a black bird, pissed that he was near her nest, started screeching and dive-bombing him.

Through the ruckus, Nick, swatting the bird away, noticed that McVeigh wore a black sweat suit with a college logo on it along with matching track pants. He had his hair up in a pony tail and coughed away as he smoked a cigarette and read the paper. It was hard to believe that this pathetic creature was the same person who attacked him. He looked like any loser on the block.

The bird made such a ruckus that Nick finally muttered, "Fucking bird. I'll leave!!" He stood up and stepped away, only to trip on a branch and topple down a hill.

"Who's there?!" McVeigh yelled out, starting to walk towards Nick who held still as if a grizzly bear was making its way toward him. And what do you do when a bear comes near you? You play dead.

xxXXxx

Warrick sipped his coffee, waiting for Catherine to show. She sounded like she had a beef with him, and he figured this diner was a safe bet. She marched in wearing a t-shirt that looked fit for Lindsay with a gold emblem on it and tight jeans with killer black boots.

"Whoa! You can ruin a man with those," he remarked as she slid in, her eyes steely.

"Just one right now."

Gulping, Warrick set his coffee down. "What did I do now?"

"Tell me something." Catherine then scoffed at the little red-headed waitress Nick had a thing for. She had told Nick she could be his daughter, and he shut up about it.

"What?" Warrick leaned back, ready for a fight.

"If there was evidence that I had been raped, what would you do?" Catherine watched his expression.

Warrick sipped his coffee. "I guess I'd want to kill the son of a bitch."

"Right!" she said. "And now we've got evidence that Nick has been…violated." She emphasized the last word and noticed Warrick looking out the window licking his bottom lip. "You don't want to face up to it, do you?"

"Catherine...I…" Warrick struggled for words.

"You don't."

"I…can't!" Warrick said, running a hand over his face and shaking his head. "I can't deal with it, Cat. He's my buddy!"

"He's still your friend. This doesn't change anything," Catherine said, leaning over and grabbing his hand.

"Believe me, if the evidence proves there was an attack on Nick, I'm going to kill those fucking bastards with my bare hands."

"You need to be there for Nick now, no matter how much he tells you to fuck off and get the hell from him," Catherine told him.

"Cat, he's been acting strange for months, and I didn't realize what was going on."

"None of us did, Warrick, but now we know, and we can help him."

"Does he even want us to help him? He left town. Funny…he left that night we got the call from the prison."

"How do you know?" Catherine asked.

Warrick smiled. "Rumour has it that Mandy went over to his house and got his cat for him."

"Mandy?" Catherine asked. "I heard those two seemed to hang out."

"Yeah. Nick said they were just friends, but I think she was hoping for more." Warrick shrugged.

"I wonder if Mandy has been keeping in touch with Nick?"

"Probably. She still has my key."

Catherine's eyes widened. "I wonder…I wonder if there's any evidence in his house proving the claim."

"What are you looking for?"

"Clothes?"

"I would have burned mine," Warrick said.

"But let's backtrack here," Catherine said. "How is it Nick left town that night when we got the call?"

Warrick thought for a moment. "You know, he's got a friend in corrections…a lot of friends, actually."

"So one of them alerted Nick to the fact that O'Flynn was going to call Grissom."

"Nick freaks and skips town."

"But where would he go? We know he's not in Texas."

"We can ask Mandy to give us her cell phone and have Archie track down the location. And Nick's got GPS Tracking on his truck," Warrick said. "I'll get Mandy's phone off her."

Catherine shook her head. "I think I'd like to talk to Mandy, woman to woman. Why don't you and Grissom find out who the source in corrections was."

xxXXxx

Mandy was brushing her hair in the bathroom when Catherine Willows strolled in and smiled at her.

"Hey," Mandy said, and turned to leave, but Catherine stood in front of her.

"Do you have minute?" The blonde criminalist asked in a friendly, matter of fact way.

"I haven't done the prints yet," Mandy said curtly.

"No, I just want to talk to you about Nick." Catherine watched her expression and noticed that the mere name, Nick, lit up the Lab Tech…not in a positive way, but a negative one. Her face turned dark, and her eyes narrowed angrily. What in God's name happened between these two?

"What about Nick?" Mandy folded her arms defiantly.

Catherine smiled reassuringly and touched her shoulder. "Just come to my office and talk woman to woman, okay?"

"Am I trouble?" Mandy asked nervously.

"No, not at all. We need your help."

xxXXxx

Nick jumped up from the bushes he landed in and started hobbling away. His ankle throbbed.

Then he heard a click. A gun was pointed at him. "Stand right there."

Nick was feeling panicked, his breath coming in short rasps.

"What are you doing here?" McVeigh asked.

Nick thought a second and then did his best British accent, "Just...out for a stroll...sir...I apologize."

"Yeah, just a stroll."

"Just a stroll," Nick answered, his back to McVeigh.

"You ain't spyin' on me?"

"No." Nick was breathing heavily. "I was bird watching and I tripped on that there hill and down I went. Bloody branches!"

"Well then get the fuck out of here. I got enough problems. Just keep walking and don't turn back. As far as you're concerned, we never talked. Got it?"

Nick nodded, sweat sliding down his face and into his eyes. "Yes…yes." The Texan started walking fast. His ankle throbbed, but he walked and walked until he found his trailer and immediately went in and closed the door.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!" Nick snarled as he went to the fridge to pull an ice pack out, then limped to the wingback and flopped down. He put his foot on the ottoman, placed the ice pack on it, and sighed in relief and frustration.

xxXXxxx

Catherine sat behind her desk and slowly began to ask Mandy questions. "Mandy, nothing you tell me will get around the lab," she reassured the nervous woman who sat on the chair with her hands folded in her lap, head down, and pony tail bouncing behind her.

Slowly she began and embarrassingly told the tale. Catherine listened intently, all the while surprised a bit that there was even a relationship between Nick and Mandy. Not once in the years that she and the Texan worked together had he even mentioned Mandy except in reference to a case. Oh, Catherine knew that Nick sang to get fingerprint results from her, but that was it. Hearing about their friendship prior to his skipping town was rather enlightening, actually, and it impressed Catherine who, as much she loved Nick, knew when it came to women his judgment…well...was...skewed. The 22 year old from Reno was a prime example.

Not to mention, Nick had clearly expressed to anyone who would listen that he refused to take part in workplace relationships, but then again it appeared that's all there was between Mandy and Nick. Until…the next chapter was opened to her as the lab tech described the night she went to get George, and while searching for him the two of them wound up in the sack. Poor Mandy seemed to stall as her face grew red.

Catherine smiled and said, "Mandy, I've heard it all over the years I've been doing this job. Nothing you tell me is going to go past me nor will shock me."

Mandy grew uncomfortable and then said, "Ummm…I don't know how it happened...we…just started...to get things...going...physically…but then he acted strange."

Catherine's eyes grew narrow. "It's okay, Mandy. I need to know the details. I know it's embarrassing, but don't worry. It's confidential, but it will help me gauge Nick's state of mind."

Mandy squirmed. "Well…I went to undo his pants and he flipped on me...literally pushed me off him and ran to the bathroom cursing and swearing. I thought I did something wrong."

Lights were flashing in Catherine's head. Epiphany moments danced as she said, "It's not you. I can tell you that. It definitely has nothing to do with you at all."

"What's wrong with him?" Mandy asked, eyes filled with worry, her feelings starting to come out from under the layers of anger that had coated them for weeks.

Sighing, Catherine pushed back from the desk. "I can't get into it, Mandy, but his behavior that night towards you was absolutely nothing personal."

A look of relief washed over the lab tech and she said softly, "Thanks, Catherine. I needed to hear that."

"Mandy, there are two things I need from you." Catherine looked at her. "The key to Nick's house and your cell phone."

"Oh sure, I can get that to you. Umm...some of the messages on my cell phone between Nick and I are kind of nasty."

"Well, I'm sure you were pretty angry with him so that's understandable," the blonde criminalist assured her. "And I do need to show these to Warrick, but believe me he won't say anything…not if he wants to have children."

Mandy laughed in relief and said, "Thanks, Catherine. I'll get those to you right away."

xxXXxx

In the A/V room, Warrick shooed Archie out and hooked Mandy's phone up to get the readings. Catherine sat beside him and they read the messages.

"I don't know what happened, but Nick certainly pissed her off." Warrick looked at Catherine to see if she would tell him. "You're not gonna say anything?"

"No, I'm not. I promised Mandy I wouldn't and that I'll kick your ass if you breathe a word of this to anyone."

"I might enjoy that!" Warrick grinned.

"Just keep going," Catherine groaned.

Grissom walked into the room and sat down. "I had no clue Nick was seeing Mandy."

"Well," Catherine said as the computer scanned the readings, "it's not against the rules."

Grissom folded his arms and leaned back. "I found out what the connection to the prison was. Cowell told me that someone named Andrew Butler came forward and said that Nick had contacted him about information on both Charles Smith and John McVeigh. He didn't say why though."

Catherine stared at him in alarm. "Why would Nick want to know anything about the men who attacked him?"

"Maybe he was trying to bring them to justice?" Grissom shrugged.

"Well how did he know who attacked him?" Warrick asked.

"He's a scientist, Warrick; he could have had the results sent out privately to any lab in town," Catherine said. "But that would require having DNA samples from them."

They heard a knock on the door and Greg walked in looking disturbed.

"What did you find, Greg?"

"The blood and semen on the floor matched…matched...Nick's"

"Was there any matching the attackers?"

"No. I found traces of blood on the extension cord...again matching Nick's. There were also traces of adrenocorticotropic hormone, and leucine enkephalin.

"Tears?" Catherine asked.

"Emotional tears," Grissom commented.

"What's the difference?" Warrick asked.

"Emotional tears contain more of the protein-based hormones prolactin, adrenocorticotropic hormone, and leucine enkephalin (a natural painkiller) than basal or reflex tears which contain mucin, lipids, lysozyme, lactoferrin, lipocalin, lacritin, immunoglobulins, glucose, urea, sodium, and potassium."

"Blood and emotional tears in the library," Catherine said. "Then he was attacked."

"But we're not sure as to how, Catherine," Grissom retorted.

"We have his blood and semen."

"That could mean a lot of different things, but we don't have Nick's side of the story, nor do we have any concrete proof that he was…" Grissom trailed off.

"Raped Grissom, just say it Nick was raped!" Catherine demanded.

But the entomologist simply cleared his throat and continued, "Well, anyway...we need more than that. Maddie said sometimes the state will charge even without the victim's say in the matter."

"Is that where you want to go?" Warrick asked.

"I don't know yet," Grissom answered simply.

"You just don't want to deal with this Grissom!" Catherine accused.

"Don't start, Catherine."

She folded her arms and glared at him. "This is about your black sheep attitude towards Nick!"

Grissom got up and started to walk out, but Catherine wasn't going to let him get away that easily. She stood in front of the door. "Grissom, what is going on with you?"

"Nothing. I'm doing this case, Cath..."

"No, you're not. You're avoiding it!"

"I'm not avoiding it, Catherine. You're leading this case," Grissom tried the door but Catherine wouldn't budge. Warrick and Greg turned away, pretending to be busy with something else.

Catherine looked at them and said, "If this were Sara or me or a female CSI you'd all be out there playing the hero. But it's a man. It's Nick, and the three of you cannot deal with it. How do you think Nick is feeling right now? The fact that he's a man probably makes it worse because you're supposed to be stronger then us women. Who the hell knows how this happened though? They obviously tied up and gagged him!"

"I know," Grissom agreed reluctantly. "I know."

"Then why are you slowing this case, Gil?!" Catherine asked. "None of you will ever look at Nick the same way as before, will you?"

Grissom, Warrick and Greg all looked at each other and then at other things in the room. The silence was eerie.

Grissom took a deep breath and said, "I think…I think we should treat Nick like any other victim here and bring these assholes to justice if the evidence continues to point in the direction we don't want it to go. He deserves as much from us. How we feel about it should not matter, Catherine. You're right."

"You didn't answer my question, did you?" Catherine said. "Nick is different now. He's not the same."

"Nick is a good CSI who's been victimized in the worst way. That's how I'm going to work on seeing him, Catherine. Is that enough of an answer for you? I'm going to work on it." Grissom was solemn.

"I guess that's the best I can expect," Catherine said. She finally let him leave and then told Greg, "Come with me. We're going to Nick's house."


	9. Chapter 9

_**IRREVERSIBLE**_

_**CHAPTER 8**_

_**Warning: Graphic talk**_

Sorry about the double posting.

Thanks to my Beta Smokey!!

_I don't want to be a soldier  
With the captain of some sinking ship  
With snow, far below  
So if you love me__  
__Why'd you let me go? _

_Violet Hill, Cold Play_

"He ain't been home for weeks now," the crazy cat lady named Mrs. Matthews said as she sat on the porch with a black and white three-legged kitty. A cigarette dangled from the edge of her mouth, dropping ashes onto a shabby sweater as her blue eyes followed the two CSIs closely. Her hair was done in its atypical fashion of a pony tail. In her better days, Mrs. Matthews was a lawyer, but the profession wore her down physically. Mentally, she was as keen as an eagle on a mountain and still made it her business to know who and what was going on in the neighborhood. Even those who were AWOL.

"We know," Catherine said, walking up the steps with Greg following behind.

"He was really strange that night he left." The old lady pulled the cigarette from her mouth and squashed it into a pop can.

Catherine stopped and said, "How do you mean?"

"He looked like the Terminator. You know, from Terminator 2? The liquid guy. Normally he walks around like he's pissed off, or tired, or lately like death, but he looked like a man on a mission." She picked up the cat and held him as he tried to get away, while another cat came walking by and trotted over to Greg who backed away. "And he was carrying a black duffle bag and not much else. I don't know where he was going, but it didn't look like it was going to be some vacation. Figured him for a guy who goes to brothels or something."

Greg and Catherine looked at each other, eyes wide. "What time did he leave that night?"

"Oh about midnight. I was out having my last smoke when he came charging out of his house. He had some chick there before that, but she came and went looking really pissed off, just like that young thing that came and was gone from his house within an hour. That guy don't have much luck with women. They're in and out of his house like a cuckoo clock. I'd say he was a male hooker, but I know he works for some crime lab…or so he says. He's kind of a kook anyways. I don't even think he knows where he works half the time."

Catherine and Greg exchanged humorous looks, as normally people think of Nick Stokes as the sainted cowboy, so this image of a Nick Stokes was different. Most women were in awe of Nick, except for Sara and Catherine; but not this old lady. She seemed to have a mind of her own and had surmised the grumpy Texan in her own category - a moody, brooding, ego-maniac - and it was her job to knock him off his high horse. Catherine liked this old lady already, having done her fair share of knocking men off their high horses since she was 16.

She rambled on, "No wonder that little orange tabby of mine went off to live with him. One's as crazy as the other, especially after the cat attacked some lunatic lurking around his house."

Catherine walked over to her and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Some weird guy with long hair with bald spot in the middle of his head, hanging around watching what's his name…oh...Mick."

"Nick," Catherine corrected.

"Yeah, well, Nick's cat done gone crazy one day and flew at the guy, ripping his hands to shreds. Ain't seen the guy here since."

"Was there any blood?" Greg asked.

"I don't think so. Told you that cat is crazy, but he likes Mike."

"Nick," Catherine said.

"Oh yeah...Nick. Then I saw him a long time ago trying to burn something in the barrel out back…and he looked like he had a shower…about friggin' time…and his face was red and blistered like he bathed in acid or something and he looked like he was in shock or something, or shock and awe more likely. Like he'd been completely devastated by an event and was rendered defenseless. I don't know what happened to that guy, but he'd done gone crazy if you ask me. Time to get the men in white coats to drag Nick Stokes off to the funny farm. And he can take his damn cat with him. That cat was normal until he went to live with the kook over there, and now one's as crazy as the other."

Greg and Catherine glanced at each other quizzically before Catherine asked, "What was it that he was burning?"

"Well it was clothes, but then he tries to tell me that it was pictures of an old girlfriend. Wouldn't tell me which one…probably couldn't remember since there's so many of them that walk in and out of there."

Greg asked, "Do you remember which clothes they were, Mrs…?"

"Matthews. Oh yeah, I have a great memory. Oh it was a blue denim shirt and black jeans…think I saw his grey boxers. Tacky, tacky!! Bad enough he's always changing his hairstyle, but his clothes, now there's a man who could use 'Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.'"

Catherine had turned her attention to Greg. "What was Nick wearing that day you were locked in the prison?"

"That sounds close."

"Mrs. Matthews," Catherine asked, "did you see anything on the clothes?"

"Oh, he had them crumpled up, but when he dumped them in there I thought I saw blood. I tell you he's up to no good, that one. That guy plays all sweet with those puppy dog eyes of his and his big old goofy grin, but that Nick guy is a strange one. Really weird. Cat goes around stealing everyone's things…even stole a vibrator once. Nick just threw it in the trash. Hope he washed his hands. Pervert!"

Catherine held her hand up. "Mrs. Matthews, thank you, you've been a great help."

"No problem. Just tell Mack to smarten up when you see him. I'm watching him, 'cause I know that Stookes guy is up to no good, I tell ya. And his cat done gone and stole my cigarettes once and got one of my girls pregnant. I told Nick to get the damn thing neutered, but he's walking around like some emo rock star. One of these days he's gonna wear a black cape with a hood and carry a staff, like's he got some black cloud over that big head of his. You just tell him I'm watching his every move."

Greg was stifling a laugh at the 'emo rock star' comment as Catherine jabbed him in the ribs to shut him up and thanked Mrs. Matthews for the info by saying, "Believe it or not, Mrs. Matthews, you've been a huge help to us, and I'm glad someone's watching Nick."

Mrs. Matthews replied with a quizzical look before scooping up the three legged cat and walking back into the house.

xxXXxx

Stale air greeted them as they entered their colleague's house and turned on the lights. Dust covered the black leather couches, turning them almost grey, and even Nick's flat screen TV was shimmering with dust. Catherine looked around and saw Nick's desktop over in the corner and went over to it while Greg searched around the house. Just then Catherine's cell rang.

"Willows."

"Catherine, it's Mandy."

"Mandy, what's up?" Catherine lowered her voice to a whisper.

"I don't know if this means anything, but the last time I was there Nick was worried that when I cleaned his house I might have gone into his closet. I don't know. I just thought he was being paranoid."

"Did he say which one?"

"No."

"Thanks, Mandy. That might help us more then you think." Catherine called to Greg who was in the bathroom, "Greg, can you start going through Nick's closets?"

"Yeah, sure," the younger man answered and decided to start in Nick's bedroom.

Catherine turned on the computer and searched around for a password. She looked under the keyboard and found a sticky note and read it. "Oh Nicky, you're so predictable." She typed 'George' into the computer and was greeted by the Windows Vista logo, then started to check his e-mail. Outlook Express played the familiar ring as one e-mail popped up. It was from Sara Sidle. Catherine clicked on it.

Greg walked into the bedroom and opened Nick's closet. Everything was so neat and precise except for a garbage bag on a shelf. He pulled it out and looked inside. Shock and awe was a good way to describe his reaction as he numbly walked back out into the living room.

Catherine had just settled into a chair to go through Nick's computer, and she turned upon hearing Greg's footsteps. The look on his face was enough for her to stop what she was doing, jump out of the chair, and take the bag from his shaking hands. She walked over to a table in the eat-in kitchen and dumped the contents, spreading them out and asking Greg to bring her kit over to her.

Carefully, she spread out the denim shirt and then the jeans which smelled of iron. Then with a firm resolve she unfolded the grey boxers, mentally separating the victim (her friend) from the evidence and held fast as it became clear that her hunch had been right all along, as much as a part of her wanted it not to be. Dried blood, lots and lots on the seat of the boxers, and she hypothesized that if she sprayed luminal on the seat of the black jeans, blood would be on them as well.

Greg brought her kit over and set it on the table. Catherine steeled herself. She had no choice in the matter. A crime had taken place. There was a victim, and she had evidence linking victim to attacker.

"I think we found the key evidence, Greg," Catherine crowed and looked at the younger man who had walked over to the bookshelf, arms folded, sniffling, the light from the window reflecting on the 'Forensics' lettering on his black vest.

Leaving Greg to his own devices to resolve this for himself, Catherine went back to the e-mail that Sara Sidle had sent to Nick.

_Dear Nick:_

_Nick, I read your e-mail and I'm so, so sorry this has happened to you. You have my word that I will say nothing to Grissom about this, although I wish you would say something. I wish you had done something right away instead of just going home and pretending nothing happened, because something did happen, Nick. But I assume you got rid of the evidence as soon as you got in the house. These guys need to pay for what they did to you._

_Statistics show that men are less likely to report this stuff, even less then the rate for women, for obvious reasons… fear of not being believed, embarrassment. However, Nick, I wish you had said something. I know Grissom would never mock you and Catherine would be in your corner fighting for justice. There are laws to protect your identity; I used to help victims all the time. It's called a 'Request for Pseudonyms'. Please reconsider. Whatever evidence you have, turn it over to Catherine. Personally, she'd be the best person for this. I know as a man this is probably the most horrific thing you've had to endure, but it does not change the person you are. I'm sure that Cat will do her best. If there's any evidence left, then give it to her and she'll fight for justice. _

_Please don't let these two jerks get away with it, and don't take the law into your own hands, Nick. I wasn't sure what you meant when said you only had so many cheeks to turn, but don't do this yourself. You'll only risk yourself, your career, and everything. Just find the courage in your soul to come forward. Please do it for me._

_Sara_

Having collected his wits, Greg sat down and read Sara's e-mail as well and asked, "What does she mean by taking things into your own hands?"

Catherine shook her head. "Well, there's only one person who could find that out." She placed a call to Grissom and let him know about Sara's e-mail.

"Forward it to me and I'll read it over and then give her a call," he instructed.

xxXXxx

Dr. Zayid read the latest test results with a frown…a frown that made Nick uneasy. The young doctor pulled out a form from his desk and started writing on it. "Nick, this is a referral to Dr. Ramoro. If you have time, he's willing to see you today," Dr. Zayid said. "I've sent your file over."

"What's wrong?" Nick asked, even though he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

The doctor looked at him, hopeful, yet worried. "Well, the good news is your last HIV test came back negative. However, your enzymes are up. My concern is that your liver is deteriorating."

"Gees," Nick sighed in exasperation, "is there no end in sight to this?"

Dr. Zayid looked into Nick's eyes with the light. "You look better. Have you been taking it easy?"

"Yeah," Nick said. "Sleeping, eating, and relaxing." His brain rhymed off, "_And watching a dirty scumbag does wonders for the endorphins."_

"_Shut up brain!!" Nick thought to himself._

"Good. Now get on the scale."

Nick took off his shoes and stood on it as the doctor watched the numbers. "You're down another five pounds."

Nick growled in frustration as Dr. Zayid wrote in his chart. "I've been eating a lot better though," he said. "My weight should be up."

Dr. Zayid's blue eyes faced him. "Well, Doctor Ramora said he could see you today, otherwise you'll wait another month to get in. So I suggest you get over there. More than likely you'll need to get a liver biopsy done."

"Well, I've been through worse," Nick said, taking the referral form and heading off to the specialist.

xxxXXxxx

Grissom studied McVeigh's medical file with Doc Robbins. "He's got Chronic Hepatitis B but is HIV Negative, while Smith is HIV Positive and has Hepatitis B."

Doc Robbins shook his head. "Well, the attack was about six months ago? Mr. Smith could have been infected shortly after that. If his regular partner had left the prison a few days after attacking Nick and if he's still not HIV Positive, then Nick should be fine. However, the virus could lay dormant for months."

Doc took the news of Nick's attack in stride, as nothing shocked the Coroner anymore. As far as he was concerned, it didn't change his view of the CSI in any way. He would far rather have Nick alive, yet traumatized, than here on the slab where he and David would have to see the horrific-ness of his attack in an autopsy. And when the Texan CSI returned, he would simply act as if nothing happened, knowing that would be what Nick would want.

Grissom looked guilty when Robbins told him this, which didn't shock the Coroner. Most men couldn't deal with it in the least. But working with the dead often changed your perspective of life. Anything was better then the slab, and Nick was very lucky to be alive as far Robbins was concerned.

"What are Nick's chances though?"

"It depends on many factors, Grissom. I'll talk to my colleague over there today about it. Seems strange…if they were in some kind of relationship then the other should have it as well. Actually, Nick probably would have tested HIV Positive before getting Hepatitis B. HR might be able to access his medical records."

"Well, I don't know. Nick could be paying out of pocket for the tests to avoid suspicion." Grissom sighed. "I'll guess I'll be the one to tell him Smith's status. What do I say?"

Doc Robbins shrugged. "The truth."

xxXXxx

Nick hobbled out of the theatre carrying the program under his arm. He wished the crowd would hurry up and was irritated as two teenage girls babbled on about the cute Australian from 'American Idol' who had the starring role as Galileo Figaro. Nick sucked his breath under his teeth as his ankle protested every slow step he made.

Eponine glanced at him. "You okay?"

Nick forced a smile at her and said, "Yeah. I'm tired and my ankle hurts."

The dark-haired girl slid her arm through his and said, "C'mon, I'll help you out."

"I'm fine," Nick said, grunting.

"So how did you hurt your ankle?" she asked as they headed out of the theatre to her car.

"I tripped while I was taking a walk."

"Uh huh...near McVeigh's trailer." She stood in front of him and fixed him with a scolding stare.

Nick shoved his hands into the cargo pants he wore along with a blue dress shirt. "Yeah, how did you know that?"

She looked at him as she opened the passenger door for him. "Because he called me and complained about some dark-haired, British guy near his trailer and said I'd better tell him to watch out."

Nick frowned and then forced a grin. "Oh."

"Get in the car. We'll talk about it." She drove a grey Volkswagen Bug…her ex-husband's before he left her for a younger woman. It was the only thing other than her daughter that she got out of the marriage.

"So, what were you doing at McVeigh's trailer?" she asked as they pulled out of the parking lot

"Watching him."

"Why?"

"Because I'm sure he's up to something." Nick stared out the window, watching to see if any of his friends from the lab were here. Nope.

"And where's your proof, Nick?"

"I don't have any other than a gut instinct."

"Well, that and a cup of coffee won't get you far, speaking of which…do you want to stop by Ruby's?"

"No, I'm tired. I think I'd like to go home," Nick answered. He glanced over at Eponine who wore a fitted, blue, snug, dress emphasizing her voluptuous curves. She had straightened her hair and it was swept to one side. God she looked hot! "The seats were great! Third row centre from the stage," he said. "It was a really great show. I'm not big on musicals."

"My mom's an…or was…an opera singer, and I used to sing on Broadway, so it's kind of in my blood," Eponine said as she pulled out of the parking lot and waited as the traffic slowly made its way out. "My mom was a singer, so Stephanie comes by it naturally. She had read Les Miserables and named me after a character in a book…a character I later played in our local theatre in town. I majored in Theatre Arts in university."

"Oh!" Nick commented surprised. "So how come you...now…did you..."

Eponine smirked. "How did I wind up in a trailer park near Vegas? Well, I met my daughter's father who didn't approve of what I did, and so like the idiot I was I just caved and became a good cop's wife. I mean, I sang for a while…even got to Broadway for a bit where I met my husband who was a New York cop. Then we moved to Nevada where he became the local sheriff in Reno…until he ran off with a younger woman...some newbie on the force."

"So you have a lot of experience in the law enforcement world," the Texan commented, staring at the lights on the highway.

"Yep, more then you think, Nick," Eponine sighed. "I'm glad to put that world behind me. I never got on with the other cops' wives, because I preferred books over partying with the cops and their wives. Not a great world, I tell you. They were all skinny and blonde and perfect, and I'm none of those things."

Nick looked her over. "So that's why we get along so well."

"I knew you were in law enforcement as soon as I met you!" She laughed. "Gees, you had that clean cut look about you when you walked in the office, although you also looked very tired, and very sick."

"I have been sick," he told her. "I hate that clean cut look, but I grew up with a judge dad who expected that of me. Where are your parents?"

"Still in Maine. My mom teaches acting at the local university."

"Do you miss being on stage?" He cast his eyes over and saw the familiar wistful look that all performers get when asked that question. Even Catherine Willows got that longing-to-be-in-the-spotlight-look, although Nick couldn't figure that one out since her stage performance included taking her clothes off for perverted men; although he wouldn't have minded checking out one of those performances had he been old enough.

Eponine was quiet and then answered his question. "Yeah, I do. I liked it. It's addictive. I did all those melodramatic Andrew Lloyd Webber ones. I did my namesake in 'Les Miz'. I did 'Chicago'."

"Ooh," Nick answered, "you mean you were on stage dressing in those skimpy outfits like the movie with…Catherine Zeta Jones?" The Texan sighed as he said the name of that goddess from Wales whose accent drove him crazy. "Or Rene's character?"

"Ohh...well, I did the Catherine Zeta Jones character, Velma. I got to sing about killing my philandering husband." Eponine smiled evilly, her nose scrunched as she said that. "Actually, Nick, if you could sing and dance I could see you doing the sleazy lawyer in that show, Billy Flynn."

Nick was taken aback by the compliment. Sleazy lawyer…hmm. "Ya think?"

"Oh yeah, you've got the look."

"But no talent," Nick reminded her. "Can't get anywhere without that. My talent is...uh..."

"Spying on parolees in trailer parks, Nick?" Eponine asked pointedly and sarcastically.

"Oh, I can do more than that. I'm a science geek."

"Oh, and your parents?"

"Judge and lawyer."

"Awww...so you're in the field by nature?"

"Yep. They would have liked me to be a lawyer or a judge, but I like what I do." Nick shifted gears. "So what about this change of careers? Why therapy?"

"I'm following in my dad's footsteps," she announced matter-of-factly.

"Which is...being a sex therapist? And why don't you live there if your mom works at the university? Free education? Free room and board?"

She laughed, "No, my dad's a marriage counselor. They're good people, but I don't want to move home with them because I just feel like I let them down. They had all these expectations of Lee and I, and we just fucked up royally."

"I don't think so," Nick said to her. "You're a great mom. You take good care of your brother. You're studying for your Ph.D. You're earning your own money. That's a lot to be said."

Eponine was quiet again and then said, "Thanks, Nick. That's really, really nice of you to say that."

"Hey, I see the drudges of society, Eponine. I see people who throw their kids away like garbage. I see families with money to burn, yet their kids are messed up. I did a case a few years ago where these boys, both from families with tons of money, went into a Laundromat and one of them locked the other in a dryer and took off. Kid died."

"That's awful," she said. "I guess being loaded doesn't always mean your kids will turn out well."

"No, it's about the time you spend with them," Nick said, "and Stephanie is an amazing kid."

"Her ADHD gets the best of her, but I deal with it. It's hard for her because it makes her stand out like a sore thumb, so putting her into musical theatre was a way to get out the extra energy and work on the talent she has."

"She was great the other day," the Texan said. "She sang that song so well, people were crying."

"I'm glad you came with us, Nick," she said. "You've been hiding in that trailer so much, I've made it a mission to get you out of there and into the real world again. I don't know what you're hiding from, but it's time to come out."

"Of the closet?" he answered coyly.

"Yeah, if you want to come out of that too, you can. I'm all ears." Eponine was giggling, keeping her eyes to the road.

"No, that's not my closet," Nick said. "I play for the other team."

"I'm sure all the ladies in the park will be happy to hear that."

"Well, sorry, I'm not their knight in shining armor."

"Oh don't worry about them. They'll find some other man to take care of them."

"And you'll study sex in the meantime?" Nick asked, his eyebrows raised.

"No, I'm studying sexuality…human sexuality and the chemicals it releases that aid in healing of all sorts of things, particularly emotional and sexual trauma." She gave him a quick, devilish yet goofy, look and then stuck her tongue out at him to which he cracked up, before she said, "But a player like you wouldn't understand that."

"I'm not a player!" he snapped, wondering what it would take for people to stop thinking he was a player. "I'm a full-fledged, single man who, yes, likes to dally in one night stands for releases when Mr. Hand wasn't doing the job."

"Oh that was TMI for me, Mr. Stokes. I daresay I'll have that image of you and your hand in my head tonight."

"You're the sexologist!" Nick told her. "Why should that shock you?"

"Oh it doesn't. It's good for you…releases good chemicals into your brain and makes your day go along smoother," she quipped and then guffed, "Sexologist! That's a good one. One night stands are okay, as long as you keep yourself protected and the girl you're with isn't going to start stalking you."

"I've been stalked…by a man!"

"Oh? For sexual purposes?" Eponine's voice raised in interest.

"That's a loooong story…don't even wanna go there. I don't think it was about sex. I think he was deranged," Nick drawled.

"Well anyway, you can only be a player for so long, and then even that gets boring," she told him.

"You're right," Nick admitted reluctantly, "I am a player, but I've learned the hard way that it's a lonely road."

"Is that how you contracted Hepatitis B?" She pulled into the park.

A tense silence followed the question. "I don't want to talk about it," Nick finally answered coldly.

Her smile dropped. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound so judgmental, Nick. I really don't. I'm just bitter, and I guess I projected those feelings onto you."

"It's alright," he said. "I know all about bitterness, more then you can imagine. I put on this happy face for everyone at work, but at home my mind goes dark."

They were quiet for a moment and then Eponine looked at him. "Do you want to come in for awhile?" Her voice sounded nervous.

Nick thought for a moment about the question. Sure, he could go back to his trailer and watch more of 'Planet Earth' and get depressed about the state of the environment and the ecological systems, or he could spend some time with an attractive woman whom he actually enjoyed talking to.

He did introduce himself to the single moms, but he got the impression they were looking for a White Knight trying to save them from the throes of poverty, which he wasn't. He was a Black Knight and someone they should veer from before being swept up in the sick vortex of his miserable life. Eponine had an edge to her. She was certainly bitter, but seemed to channel it well.

"Yeah I'll come in for a bit," he finally said. "I'd like to read some of that thesis of yours."

"I don't know if you can handle it, Nick," she warned.

"Don't be too sure of that, Eponine," Nick laughed. "I once investigated a case involving Lady Heather."

"Oh, the dominatrix!" Eponine brightened with interest. "Yeah, I interviewed her for an essay on Slave and Master relationships."

"Really?" Nick pulled himself out of the car wincing at the pain that shot from his ankle. "I never spent any time with her. That kind of stuff creeps me out."

"Oh, you're a player and a prude?" Eponine surmised, locking the door of her car and linking her arm through his as she led him to her trailer.

"You can't be both?" Nick raised his eyebrows at her and smiled slyly as she shook her head at him in exasperation.

"Just come in and I'll get some Diet Colas out for us."

xxXXxx

At the lab, Catherine opened the bag for Warrick, Brass, and Grissom to see what she had found. They had papered the plexiglass windows to avoid any stares from cops and Lab Rats. Greg stood off to the side with the 'John Doe' file.

She carefully laid the boxers, black jeans, and denim shirt across the table, stretched them out, and took stock of their reactions. Brass groaned and turned away, while Warrick wiped his face and walked away, hands in fists, cursing, "Fuck!! Fuck!!" Finally, she looked at Grissom whose jaw had clenched, mouth pursed, and arms folded, almost hugging himself.

"Well," she asked tentatively, "do you think this is enough for Klein?"

"If the DNA matches any of the suspects, then yes, it is," Grissom answered in a tight voice.

"It does match," Greg told them. He had long recovered from the shock and was back in professional mode, behaving as if this were just another crime scene for him to investigate. "There are two types of semen on there. One matches McVeigh and the other Smith. The blood belongs to Nick."

The room was silent as the team took stock of the news. Catherine watched as her guys' faces went from shades of white to grey and then to red. The first to speak was Brass. "I just want to go down to that prison and wrap my hands around that scrawny son of a bitch's neck!" the burly detective growled, shaking his head from side to side, teeth gritted. "Just fucking bash the shit out of him."

Catherine looked at Warrick who had one hand over his mouth, the other on his hip as he took deep breaths to control himself and then said, "Why…I don't know if I want to know…but why was there semen from Nick on the carpet?"

"Physical stimulation of any sort can cause a reaction, it was beyond his control," Catherine explained grimly.

Grissom quickly agreed. No need to go further on that one. "I know. I'm going to talk to Maddie about pressing charges. I think we need to find Nick and see if he will tell us what happened and how."

"Sara mentioned a form about..." Catherine reminded the shocked entomologist.

"I've already got a copy of it. I just need him to sign it."

"If we can get him to sign it," Greg said.

Grissom took a deep breath. "Sara and I talked long and hard about how to deal with this, and I know this is horrifying for us, but we have to find a way to separate the victim from the person and from the evidence. We just have to reassure him of that. Sara…" The man paused, wishing she was here because God knows she and Catherine could handle this far better then the rest of them. "Sara said to be compassionate and empathetic but straight forward, and no matter how much he…he...reacts…we have to..."

"We got it, Gil, we got it," Catherine finished because as far she was concerned, Grissom had finally confronted the truth (thanks to Sara) and now they could be a team and help their friend.

"We should never have let him run away, Catherine," Grissom said. "God knows what he's doing or where he's gone."

"You sound genuinely worried, Gil," Catherine commented, surprised.

"I am," Grissom sighed after a momentary pause.

"It's about time you were worried about Nick, but unfortunately we did let him go."

xxXXxx

Nick sat in the living room of the trailer. It was narrow and slightly cluttered with shelves filled with books, movies, CDs and pictures of families, but what did one expect with a brother and a daughter living here, both of whom were out for the night: Stephanie at a sleepover, and Lee with a girl that he had been seeing. And then there was the Berenese Mountain Dog who immediately did his two-legged dance for Nick who applauded his approval and asked when he'd be appearing at Caesar's. Then eased a stuffed animal from out under his butt-poor stuffed animal he thought.

Eponine showed him the latest CD she bought, Cold Play's 'Viva La Vida Or Death and All His Friends.'

"Well that's a light hearted title," Nick commented. "They must have been thinking about the Coroner I work with."

"Your job sounds depressing," she said as she slid the CD in, and soon Chris Martin's soft, melancholic voice filled the room.

"It has its moments," Nick told her. "Once the perpetrator is behind bars, there's a real sense of satisfaction."

"Well, I kind of prefer my line of work, helping people reclaim their sex lives after a traumatic event," she said as she gave him a quick tour of the trailer, what little there was of it. It was certainly the biggest trailer on King Trailer Lot, but it was still a house on wheels. Nick couldn't imagine living a life like that, but some people managed and probably did better then he did. It seemed that people in this park did their best to form a tight knit community. Not too tight knit though, as Nick found himself welcomed with open arms, although probably because he was a single guy surrounded by single moms.

Then Eponine showed him her workstation in her bedroom, which was small but decorated rather exotically with an East Indian theme to it. Dark reds, blues, and purples were on her bedspread, and paintings of tigers and elephants lined the wall with her Bachelor of Arts and her Masters in Health Sciences, which helped her get a part-time job at the Public Health Clinic handing out condoms and educating youth about protection against pregnancies and disease. Her desk held a laptop, printer, and a pile of books with titles like 'The Joy of Sex' and 'Karma Sutra', which Nick picked up and smirked at.

"What are you laughing at?" she asked, sipping her cola. "You've probably done most of those moves."

"Oh, probably. I just didn't know they had names." Nick looked at her and laughed, noticing her eyes widening.

"Yes, they do, Nick. You know, for a ladies man, you certainly don't know much."

"Yeah, my boss said that to me. We were looking at a skeleton and he told me that it was female because of the wider hip bones. I told him I knew all I needed to know…in other words, what goes where."

He smiled mischievously at Eponine who rolled her eyes and said, "Well, at least you know that much." She grabbed a folder and motioned for him to follow her into the living room where they sat on the couch. She looked through her file and showed him a passage that correlated to her thesis on 'Sexual Healing'.

Nick picked up the newspaper article and read a passage:

_  
Researchers debate the mechanisms of sexual first-aid. One theory is that the endorphins activated by orgasm travel to receptor sites throughout the body and produce a morphine-like effect._

Nick looked at her. "Yeah, I kind of knew that." Then he picked up a book from her pile, 'Healing Sex: A Mind-Body Approach to Healing Sexual Trauma', by Staci Haines.

Eponine had set her file down and quickly leaned over to see what he was looking at. "Oh that's a good one. It's a book for survivors of sexual trauma and their loved ones."

Nick bit his lower lip. "So is she saying survivors can actually have sex again?"

"Oh yeah, it's not easy for them, but it does happen, and it can actually help them on their road to recovery."

"But it's mostly for women, right?" Nick asked, as he had done a bit of research and found out he was in the minority for his experience. Figures.

Eponine turned some of the pages and concluded, "Well, yeah, but I mean men certainly can benefit from it. Statistically, one out of six boys will be molested and one out of eight men will be assaulted. It's more common then we think, but unfortunately men have a rough time because there's not as much support for them. And an assault like that can really wreak havoc on a man's masculinity which can affect him sexually."

Nick sighed, "Yeah, I can believe that."

"Actually, I have an interview of the author right here." She handed him a newspaper clipping. Nick rubbed his chin as he read it:

_Anything can be a trigger for survivors, depending on their sexual trauma — sexual positions or acts, smells, or something a lover says._ _When you are triggered, the past rushes into the present, and the person can't tell the difference between the two. For instance, they won't know the difference between their lover and their perpetrator. _

_After sexual trauma, many people continue to experience upsetting and traumatic reactions to sex, closeness, intimacy, and even their own desire. Positive experiences of closeness or intimacy can leave one feeling ashamed, protective, or angry. Many people can understand intellectually what happened to them, but put them in a stressful situation like having sex and their bodies continue to respond as they did during the abuse. A survivor might be making love with someone she cares about deeply and suddenly freeze or become angry and start reacting to the lover as if that person were the perpetrator of long ago. _

Nick forgot about Eponine as he read the article and it dawned on him what happened with Mandy and Pamela. It was as if McVeigh and Smith were on him and not them.

"Another Nick Stokes 'Deeep Thought?" Eponine asked brightly, bringing him out of the reverie.

"It's a shame that this is women-centric. I mean, a lot of men have been assaulted and not a lot of help is out there for them," Nick said, laying the article back on the file.

"Maybe it's because men aren't as forthcoming about being assaulted because law enforcement is a patriarchal society. So that doesn't exactly spell for a safe environment that would encourage male assault victims to come forward. Hell, my ex-husband couldn't deal with it and he was a run of the mill cop. So our justice system isn't equipped to handle male assaults, only female assault victims. Male assault victims have rather unique needs, but there's nothing out there, particularly for adult males. There's some for boys, but not men. Sad, really."

Nick digested Eponine's words as if she was saying exactly what he was going through. What happened in the prison had left him feeling so alone, so isolated, as if whatever element made him part of general society was gone. "Listen, when a guy has been…attacked…and he tries to be with a woman, can it be difficult?" He lowered his eyes and pretended to look at the book-which he wasn't.

"Typically, yeah," Eponine said. "It's pretty normal. But there are ways around it."

The conversation was making Nick squirm a bit, and he looked at her, noticing how gorgeous she was. "I just…I just…I've been..." He stopped because a stupid lump was forming in his throat. Out, damn lump, out! Oh, Grissom would love this analogy.

Eponine stared at him and knowingly asked, "How long ago did it happen?"

"Oh, I'm real lucky in that department," he said, his eyes growing misty. "Twice. Once when I was nine, and the other…the other happened about six months ago."

He looked at her face and was partly surprised at her reaction which was a nonreaction. She took the information in calmly and without emotion with only her dark eyes decorated by long lashes widening a bit, and then Eponine simply patted his hand and asked "Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's just that after what happened, I couldn't be with anyone, and I mean there were two women that I tried to be with, and I just freaked when they got too close."

"You weren't ready yet," she told him. "Your body reacted naturally because it's still in flight mode. But sex is also very healing and can help you overcome it."

"Worst part was that one of those women was a good friend, and I really, really hurt her feelings," Nick told her. "Sweet girl, and I fucked things up big time with her."

"She didn't know, I assume?" Eponine asked.

"No. I work with her, and I never reported it."

"It's hard when you're in the field?"

"No one I work with would ever look at me the same way."

Eponine sighed. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Nick thought about it and said, "I was investigating a case at a prison, and I got jumped by two guys. They gagged me, tied me up, and it...was...I don't remember much."

"A lot of rape victims black out. The trauma is too much for their brains to take in."

Nick heard the words 'rape victim' and found them hard to digest. It was hard enough to identify himself as a 'victim', but add the R word and it was not just tough but incomprehensible.

"What's wrong?" Eponine asked.

"I've never used the R word," he explained.

"But that's what it was. You think because you're a man it has to be called something else? Nick, it is what it is," she said matter-of-factly, not concerned about his reaction.

"It wasn't supposed to happen to me," Nick told her. "I'm a man, a former football player, and..."

"And it was two against one, and you were tied up and gagged," she said. "What were the odds of you escaping that?"

Nick thought about it for a second and then answered, "I guess they were small odds, but still I should have…could have..."

"Should have, would have," Eponine interrupted, "are not expressions that you need to be telling yourself. Would you tell that to another male victim of sexual assault?"

"No, of course not. That would be cruel," Nick answered.

"So why are you being cruel to yourself?" she asked and then continued. "How do you expect to move on? Or maybe you don't want to because it's easier for you to wallow in a pool of self pity. I don't know you well, but I have a feeling that's not normally how you've dealt with shit in your life. You're a survivor. Time to turn that thought process around and look at this event in a different light. To wallow in self pity is to give power to the attackers even more so. This wasn't about sex, Nick; this was about power and abuse in a vile way."

Nick picked up her thesis and read a few lines from it, then smiled at her. "So, about this sexual healing."

Eponine leaned back on the couch and started laughing. "Well, I'm glad at least you're being a typical male who thinks about sex every 11 seconds. I gave you an 11 second therapy session and you respond by mentioning sex."

"Hey," Nick said, "you said I was a player, didn't you?"

Eponine smirked and grabbed one of his hands, started kissing it slowly, and whispered, "Your hands look like they could pleasure a woman very well."

"They've been known to do that," he whispered back, surprisingly enjoying this. He watched as that luscious mouth began to suck each digit, from thumb to pinky, slowly sending small jolts down to his libido which crawled out from a cave and asked his brain if it was safe to come out now. Not sure, his traumatized self answered back. Stand by.

As she finished, he slid over, moving his hand down to her waist and pulling her to him. He kissed her while Cold Play sang on about political strife. Not very romantic music, but it didn't matter. Never mind. Kissing Eponine was reassuring his libido that all was well. His traumatized self was interested but not sure and still putting up caution signs.

This girl could kiss. Nick had kissed many girls and sometimes found it a necessary evil in order to get to the real action. But if all he could muster tonight was kissing Eponine, then he could be proud of that. She rolled her tongue around his mouth while her finger drew along his jawline before she drew back and whispered, "So do you want to keep things like this or shall we move on?"

A stark reality hit Nick. "Shit, I kissed you and I've got..."

"I've been vaccinated against it because I work part-time at the public health clinic with Mrs. Riley."

"And then there's..." Nick's eyes said it all.

"Don't worry. I've got that covered."

"Aren't you worried? I mean my six month test was clean."

Eponine stood up and motioned for him to follow. "Then you should be fine."

"I'm just worried about you." Nick followed her into her bedroom.

"And I told you that I've got it covered. It's time for you to relax," she told him as she closed the door and wrapped her arms around his waist. "This night will be about you taking a step forward."

**A/N Okay folks next chapter is very, very naughty- Informative, but naughty.**

_**And the song I was referring to you is called "Violet Hill". An excellent song.**_

.


	10. Chapter 10

**IRRVERSIBLE**

CHAPTER 10

**WARNING: **_**Graphic sexuality.**_

_**SPECIAL THANKS TO SMOKEY FOR HER KEEN EYES AND CRITIQUES!!**_

_Angel or devil  
I was thirsty  
And you wet my lips  
You, I'm waiting for you  
You, you set my desire  
I trip through your wires_

_Trip Through Your Wires-U2 from the Joshua Tre_e

"You know, a full body massage excludes boxers!" Eponine groaned as she knelt beside Nick and massaged his back.

"You're lucky I was willing to go this far," the Texan replied sardonically, and although her massage was amazing, his traumatized self was spinning the sign around to RED ALERT!

"Prude!" she teased.

"No." Nick looked around. "Just conservative."

She had changed into a white, silky, lace top that showed a bit of midriff and a long skirt with a slit in the middle. She had him lie on his stomach on some towels she spread out on her bed.

Now Nick had had massages before, and she was good, damn good, but he drew a line when it came to 'full body' and said that the boxers were going to stay until he felt ready enough to go further.

"Oh just relax, Nick, gees." Eponine leaned over and looked him in the eye. "You know I was married. I've seen naked men before, so there's nothing I've never seen."

"I told you…when I'm ready, I'll do it," he sighed, exasperated. He was trying to breathe slowly as she instructed. Breathing was the important factor here. It helped the body relax, but as her hands moved down to the top of his boxers…

"_We got the Judge's son here!"_

"Got some major tension here," Eponine observed

"Sorry," Nick growled.

"Why?"

"Just am."

"Nothing to be sorry about. Do you want to have some wine?"

"Not supposed to drink." He sat up and slid to the edge of the bed.

"Just a sip, Nick, to relax you." Eponine poured a tablespoon amount into a wine glass, held it to his lips, and then giggled. "The blood of Christ shed for you?"

He snickered and sipped it, then asked, "So where's my cracker?"

"It's not a cracker. It's the body of Christ, broken for you."

"Which part? His toes? He might have toe jam." Nick raised his eyebrows and flashed a smile at her.

The two of them giggled hysterically before Eponine said, "Well, at least you have your humor, Nick, as dark and morbid as it is." Her hands moved down and rubbed his legs, even his ankles, gently rubbing the injured one. Finally, he took a deep breath and off the boxers came, but he kept them close in case he needed them back and strongly suspected he would.

Eponine gave him a once over and then picked up a bottle from her side table.

"Now Nick," she whispered, "I'm going to start the next part. You're going to feel some massage oil poured onto you, okay? Breathe deeply."

He felt the oil poured onto his lower anatomy, making him jump up and glare at her. "What the hell?" He grabbed her hands as he shot up. "No, no, no!"

"_Damn, he's fine."_

"Relax." Her eyes were filled with empathy. "You'll enjoy this."

"No, get away from me!" He jumped up.

"Relax." Eponine stared at him, confused, as he got back into his clothes. "This is not just…sex. This is to help restore your soul."

"I don't have one! And I don't buy that shit," Nick glared. "As far as God and I are concerned…well, there is none. Where was he when I was nine years old and being attacked by my babysitter? I think I'm like that guy...Job...you know...God's faithful servant who found himself being the devil's bitch so that God could test his strength. I'm the new Job. God's been saying to the devil, "Hey, there's my buddy there, Nicky Stokes. Great guy, so why don't you torture him for a while for some fun? Did God stop those two psychopaths who held guns to my head? Did God rescue me when I was buried alive and was being eaten by ants? And oh, where the hell was he when I was bent over a fucking table and having my insides ripped apart by two son of a bitches?! God and I are not on speaking terms, Eponine. So don't give me that religious crap."

"I wasn't!" She laughed, taken aback by his rant. "I'm trying to help you see that there's more to the act of intercourse than just the physical act. You're so scared about it that you've lost sight of what it's about. And by the way, Nick, God did give Job his life back in the end…an even better one than before."

Nick snorted. "Yeah, I'm still waiting for that part. I'm going to get some air."

Eponine shrugged. "Okay." Not at all appearing to be upset or angry, but simply laissez-faire about him leaving.

He stomped through the trailer park, trying to keep his anger at bay before he charged into someone and knocked them senseless. He made his way to McVeigh's trailer, which was dark. He was seething, but he didn't know who he was pissed off at…himself…Eponine… McVeigh. Definitely McVeigh.

Trauma did strange things to people, he thought. He had visited some websites of survivors of sexual assault to find out if what he felt since the attack was normal or not.

In his own way, he knew what happened to him had changed him forever and he'd never be the same person again, but he didn't want to become so embittered by the experience that he couldn't enjoy the simple things, the not so simple things, and just life in general. Was it possible? Would he be able to allow a woman to get close to him without freaking out?

Maybe the whole thing had turned him gay? Not that there was a problem with that, but while Nick knew he wasn't sure of everything in this world, he was sure that he liked women.

McVeigh's trailer stood before him, leering at him, so taking a page from his nine-yea old-traumatized self, he picked up a rock (since a baseball wasn't available) and hurled it towards the trailer. It landed at a tree. He grabbed another one and hurled it, and it hit the tree, sending an owl screeching at him.

"Fuck off!" he yelled at the animal and thought for a second about hurling a rock at it instead, but it was an innocent creature, so he didn't. Nick related to animals for a lot of reasons, one being that he understood their pain, particularly if someone mistreated them.

And he understood how this dog at a crime scene he did felt. Poor thing's owner had been murdered violently and the poor thing - a Border Collie - was tied up in the other room, blood oozing from a gash to its leg. The damn uniforms were talking about shooting it until Nick snarled at them to lay off. He went in and sat down and talked to the dog soothingly, not once looking into its eyes because the Texan knew that it could provoke an attack. After a few minutes of soft talk and telling him what a good dog he was and eventually giving him one of his Doritos, it came around. It only needed someone to understand its fear.

Now he knew how the dog felt. If anyone had dared touched him, he was ready for the kill.

"Do you feel better now?"

He turned and saw Eponine dressed in track pants, presumably over her lingerie, and shook his head no. He walked over to her where she gathered him in her arms as the anger vacated him and was replaced by self-criticism and guilt. He made a bad choice that day. He made the choice to go into an unsafe crime scene. He did it before when he was kidnapped and at Nigel Crane's house. Impulsivity was his nemesis and it got the best of him every time.

"It was my fault. I should have never gone in there alone," he said as he buried his face into her shoulder, readily accepting her comfort. "I was just trying to be the big hero, you know? Be a big shot. I was warned not to go off there and look what happened."

He heard her voice. "No, don't blame yourself. Would you say that to another victim if it happened to them?"

Nick lifted his head off her shoulder and looked at her. "No."

She touched his face. "Then don't say it to yourself."

He looked away at nothing. "It was so painful...fuck…I'd never experienced pain like that."

Eponine cupped his face and gently kissed him on the lips. "Sshhh…enough…it's over. You're safe now."

"But the worst part of it, Eponine, was that I got a..." Nick couldn't say it. The words seemed to run from the horror of it, but she got the point and put a finger on his lips. Tears were in her eyes as she said, point blank:

"Because during your attack, your prostate gland was struck and that triggered an automatic response. Your body reacted the way it was supposed to react. It wasn't you," she explained as Nick nodded. Logically he already knew that. He was a scientist and a man and knew how the body was programmed to have automatic responses to stimuli. But that didn't change the reality that the experience was one that humiliated him so much that it was part and parcel as to why Nick didn't think he could ever be intimate again. Scientific facts couldn't dismiss the human element. Not this time. Not ever.

Eponine wiped tears from her eyes and continued, "Those two animals caused that reaction. It had absolutely nothing to do with you."

Nick sniffed. "Don't insult animals."

"You're right. Don't insult animals. Animals attack because of fear or hunger. Only humans attack to be cruel." She smiled at him softly, and he took a deep breath and went on:

"I'm just confused because of that part." He looked around and wondered if the owl was coming back for another round. God, the birds hated him here.

"You're wondering because of that particular reaction if you're gay?"

Nick nodded. "I know it's not a crime to be gay."

"Of course, but because you were in shock your mind and body became disconnected, so to speak."

"I don't think those will ever get reconnected again." He sighed, resting his head on her shoulder again as the crickets sounded.

"It will happen, and that's all I wanted to do back there. I wanted to help you. I'm sorry if I freaked you out, Nick." Eponine rubbed his back and drew away from him and said, "But if you want to go back to your trailer, I'm okay with that."

Did he want to back to his trailer? Did he want to go back and harbor deep thoughts of revenge? He looked at Eponine, studied her beautiful eyes with dark lashes decorating them and concluded that, indeed, he did not, and he told her, "Let's go back and…"

"Hang out?" she finished his sentence.

"Yeah, let's do that." He sighed with relief. All he wanted was the flexibility to opt out.

She wrapped her arm around his waist and they walked back with her asking, "By the way, can I just say one thing to you?"

"Sure!"

She threw an evil, flirty smile and whispered, "They do make everything bigger in Texas."

Nick snickered, "You women, you're just as bad as us."

As he treaded through deep thoughts, Eponine started lighting candles and going through her CD rack for some appropriate music. "I can't stand the new age shit," she said. "Just bugs me. I got a mix CD here. Cold Play, Depeche Mode, U2, The Muse, Moby, The Bravery, One Republic, Nine Inch Nails - all sad, angsty stuff though...fits the mood."

The music selected and the CD inserted into the player, she walked back over and slid off the track pants and t-shirt she donned to go after him. She walked over to Nick who sat nervously on the edge of her bed, hands trembling, mind racing with thoughts.

_Okay Nicky, keep it together...relax, man, relax._

"_Oh he's a pretty one."_

Nick blew out a breath and darted his eyes about the room, taking in her degrees and her books. Oh she was quite the reader

"What's that book about?" he asked.

"Which one?"

"The Shock Doctrine."

"Oh that's a good one. It's about how governments use disasters to implement capitalist strategies."

"That's light reading," the Texan remarked sarcastically. "I'll bet that puts you in a great mood."

"Let me guess, Nicky. Your choice of reading is probably…uh…Sports Illustrated?"

"No, the last book I read was...actually it was a poem." He grew quiet as his mind drifted back and he quoted, "This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper…"

"T.S. Elliot's 'The Straw Men'." Eponine was lighting more candles and then turned the light down in the room.

His eyes grew misty and his lower lip quivered. "Yeah, I was reading it in the library..before...they…"

She sighed sadly and said, "Guess that poem's pretty ruined for you."

"Yeah. I'll just stick with Edgar Allan Poe, but with my luck my cat will sit on a shelf somewhere and start saying 'Nevermore' to me."

"Well, T.S. Elliot also wrote 'Old Possum's Book of Cats'."

"That's the one the musical came from." Nick wasn't a complete doofus of the arts scene.

"Yeah, I was in that one when I was seventeen. I played the white cat." She donned an arabesque pose, then giggled as she stumbled slightly. "You know, your cat, George, sounds like the Great Rumpuscat."

"The who?" Nick was confused. He hadn't seen the musical and had no intention of watching men parade around in skimpy outfits pretending to be felines. He had a male cat at home if he needed feline entertainment...even if George did have an obsession with hoarding socks, cigarettes, vibrators, and other strange objects as well as saving him from whatever danger threatened Nick while he was in the shower having a close encounter with his hand.

Meanwhile, Eponine was explaining the character from the musical. "It's a character in a poem called 'Of the Awful Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles'. The Great Rumpuscat comes in and stops a fight between two groups of dogs."

"George probably would go in and just slaughter them all," Nick concluded.

"Where's he staying?"

"With that girl that's pissed with me," Nick said.

"Oh, well," Eponine grabbed his hands and said, "enough talk about cats and poems."

Nick looked at her. "So if you were in 'Cats', you wore a really skintight outfit, right?"

Eponine's eyes shifted upward and she smiled. "Yeah, ate lots of salad to stay skinny for that one."

"Do you still have that outfit?" He smiled mischievously. "You can put it on for me and give me a private performance."

"No, I don't have that outfit anymore," she sighed. "We weren't allowed to keep them. I didn't like 'Cats' because the makeup was so thick on our faces that it just clogged the pores...and...you are trying to avoid intimacy again by asking all these questions."

_Damn!! Caught in the act._

He ducked his head shyly as he felt like a teenager again. Christ, he did want to be with her. The white lace top was quite revealing, and the matching skirt…well, it revealed delightfully a lot. So why was he paralyzed with fear? His reputation at the lab for being a 'ladies man' was well earned. He liked women! So what? He was a healthy heterosexual guy who liked to enjoy himself. After his burial ordeal, he concentrated on living life to the fullest and that included being a player. Nick wasn't sure if he ever wanted to marry. Yes, it's a public declaration of love, but not for him.

And it's hard to find a good woman when you're working a weird shift that often leads to one or two shifts at a time. He'd started some relationships, then cases took over and before he knew it it had been one, maybe two, weeks before he spoke to the woman again and by then…well, she'd moved on.

So one night stands it became. He and Warrick would hit the bars and party up with the ladies. When they first started this routine, they were young and hot to trot and so were the girls. Now that both of them were hitting their forties, well, many of those girls simply had taken on the domestic chore of marriage and kids. So before they knew it, the girls got younger and younger as they got older and older. And Nick wondered if he had daughter their age, would he want a man his age going after her? Not likely.

Then he got attacked in a vile way and his perspective on things became twisted as sex took on a whole new meaning for him. The attack brought him back to a very vulnerable place. Nick had been on an emotional roller coaster with highs and lows of anger, rage, self hate, self blame, and guilt.

"Lots of alternative stuff," Nick said as Nine Inch Nails sang about drug use, making him think of Warrick for a second.

"You don't like it?" she asked. "I mean, I can go back and turn it off or put on something else. I'm easy that way."

"No, your choices are okay," Nick assured her as she knelt down in front of him and clasped his hands tightly.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked, her face soft and soulful and reassuring.

"I'm okay," he said.

"Your hands are shaking."

"I feel like I'm a kid again," he said, his voice teetering as he gripped the sides of his legs.

"That's okay. That's good," she told him. "So if anything happens, it will be your first time, so to speak. That's what's enchanting about first time sex…innocence."

"Yeah, my first time didn't go so well. We were sixteen and she cried 'cause it hurt so damn much. Then I spent the night scrubbing the back seat of my dad's car because…well she…you know." He laughed, thinking of his youthful days.

Eponine laughed. "Yeah, sometimes the first time ain't so great, but you can recapture the innocence of it."

"Well, my real first time was pretty bad." His smile fell.

"That wasn't sex. As I said earlier, that was power." Eponine raised an eyebrow, reminding him of Grissom.

"She was a babysitter my mom called at the last minute because everybody was going out that night, but I was too young. She came into my room…I don't remember much other than I couldn't breathe whole time."

"Well, people like that, particularly women who molest, are very, very disturbed and in fact, are very, very weak people because if they had real power, they wouldn't have to resort to such vile behaviour, Nick. But what I'm going to do for you tonight is help you get past it. It's going to bring up some pretty strong emotions, but you need to trust me and know I'm not going to hurt you in any way. I'm just trying to rid you of that garbage."

Nick studied her degree hanging on the wall. "Wow, you graduated Cum Laude! Pretty good."

"Okay, no distractions now." She turned his head back to face her and placed his hand against her cheek, rubbing and kissing his fingers again, running her tongue over his thumb, his libido jumping up and saying whoa!

He tentatively leaned over and kissed her again, a soft peck that seemed to light a small fire. She returned his kiss, her mouth nibbling on his bottom lip for a second before she whispered, "Great sexual experiences don't always involve intercourse."

"Yeah right." Nick was skeptical.

Eponine smiled up at him. "What if I told you that I can give you an equally great sexual experience without any intercourse involved? One that would go a long way to releasing these demons that are getting in the way."

"I'd say you're looking at giving me a sexual exorcism," Nick retorted.

"No, it's a massage of sorts. Have you heard of a Lingam Massage?"

She pulled out the book from her side drawer she had earlier and turned to a page she had dog-eared. Nick stared down, cocked his head sideways and looked up at her. "Isn't that just a regular hand job?"

"No, no, no!" She sighed in exasperation. "This is a massage."

"I'm almost afraid to ask. Why do they call it a Lingam Massage?" Nick looked at the book and then turned his head away.

"Your Lingam." She pointed at the page and then looked towards his own piece.

"Oh, okay, "Nick said. "In my world we have a whole different vocabulary for the Lingam."

"In Tantra, it's believed that there are many, many nerve endings that connect to other parts of the body and that a good Lingam massage can cure all ailments."

"Oh can it?" Nick asked, his eyes narrowing as the scientist part of him started to show itself. "In my world at this moment there's a road stop between my head and my Lingam. So...are you saying this could clear the way? Well," he sighed, "what do I have to lose?"

"Or maybe we just snuggle here in my bed and that would be it?"

His face lit up in relief. "Yeah, that would be better."

She grinned at him and leaned over to kiss him, then stood up and slowly lifted her shirt off, fully revealing the bosom he'd noticed a few days ago.

"That's a very interesting top," he commented. "Where'd you get it?"

She grinned. "Wal-Mart!"

"Oh. It's pretty sexy for a Wal-Mart product."

She leaned in and started to pull at his shirt. "I ain't got the bucks for Victoria's Secret. My money goes to my education." The shirt came off and she stood up, starting to pull down her skirt, but Nick reached over and helped her out, reveling in her body. It was a curvy one, no bones jutting out, making anything that happened pleasurable. He pulled her to him and started working on her ample bosom, one breast at a time. He rubbed her nipples, watching them come to life before he reached around and grabbed her ass, kneading it.

Eponine was breathing loudly, kissing his head, and then slowly knelt down. "Do you want me to do it or do you want to do it?"

She fiddled with his pants, making him gulp. After Mandy and Pamela, he decided he'd take charge of the lower part of his clothing, but in doing so he warned, "I can't promise anything."

"We don't have to do anything at all. We can just…I don't know… cuddle," she said as she watched him slide out of his boxers and pants.

"You're happy with that?" he asked, surprised.

"I've had a thing for you since you came here," she admitted. "You looked so lost and alone, and it was sad, so I took pity on you at first. But then I saw you with Stephanie and…well…you're an old soul, Nick, and it's an attractive quality I find in you…not your looks, although you certainly got my attention, but your soul."

"I told you, I don't have one, and if I do the devil's got first dibs on it." Nick was flattered as no one had ever referred to him as an 'old soul'. He'd been referred to as a lot of things-most of them unpleasant-but an 'old soul'-nope. Other then the chick Sage who told him he was radiated feminine energy.

"Everyone has one, Nick, but what I'm trying to say is that we don't have to do anything tonight if you don't want to."

He sighed with relief and gripped her hands whispering, "Thanks."

They scooted under the blankets on top of the towels she had placed, and Nick basked in the warmth of her body, feeling a safety and security that hadn't been there in so long.

"You know," she whispered as she rubbed his chest, "you're a beautiful guy."

"Yeah, so I'm told," Nick smirked. "I don't see it. I look weird. I have a big head, a weird chin…I look like a Basset Hound."

"They're very cute dogs." Eponine smiled and then reached under the comforter and brought his hands out from under the sheets and kissed them. "But I'll bet these aren't the only body parts that could pleasure a woman very well."

"It's been known to do a fine job when it was in working form." He said wrly.

"Are you still interested in giving what I talked about a go?"

_Why not, _he thought, and took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll be your thesis for the night."

"Oh gees, fine...if you want to narrow it all down to science, go for it."

"Science is good."

Eponine sat up and placed her hands on the lower anatomy he used to be proud of and began to maneuver around gently. He bit his lower lip, trying to relax, but tensed and tried to push her hands away; but she held firm.

"That the one you're telling me about?" he asked as memories started to intrude.

"It's a very relaxing massage, but if it gets to be too much, tell me and I'll stop. But breathe deeply and try to enjoy it."

He closed his eyes and felt her as she began to stroke him very softly, but firmly, moving her way around him.

Now he'd had hand jobs in the past…always preferred oral sex over it…but this wasn't just any job. This was setting off sensations he'd never experienced before. And Eponine didn't focus on the essential tools, but the skin around…sensitive areas that he didn't realize could and should be pleasured, particularly the skin under those essential tools. Then she moved her hand up and continued to massage him like an orange in a juicer.

"Are you okay? Your face is red. I don't want you to have a coronary," she said quietly.

"I'm fine." He grimaced and threw an arm over his face.

U2 were singing "With or Without You" with Bono singing about 'giving yourself away', a fitting line for this moment as Eponine explained, "This particular massage is about men learning to receive instead of always being the one giving, my dear. It's about you getting in touch with your softer side."

"I don't have one," Nick grunted as lightening bolts lit through him and the urge to shove her away seemed to be receding. McVeigh and Smith were there, but their voices seemed to be dwindling away too.

"Of course you do. How many times have I seen your eyes fill with tears?"

"Allergies!" he laughed, opening his eyes and looking at her as her hands lazily, and without hesitation, continued to fondle him, bringing his member back to life much to his delight. Then she stopped momentarily irking him as it was like leading a donkey by a carrot only to snatch it away when he wanted to grab it.

"What the hell? You bring me to the brink to..." he griped, "…what the hell is that?"

"Be patient. It will be worth it." She then went back to work as the tent slowly went back down, and then she slowed a bit.

"Lady," he growled, "stop teasing me." He felt as if he were on a some kind of wave being thrown onto the shore.

"I'm not. It's about master…"

"I know how to masturbate," Nick said. "Since I was like…I don't remember."

"Mastering your erection…and I'm sure you do," she giggled.

"Yeah, but the last time my cat thought I was being attacked in the shower and dove through the curtains. He's weird. Maybe I should get him to a cat psychologist."

"Oh lord!" She laughed and then slid her hand under him onto a very sensitive area where his little soldiers lay dormant. "You know, this is called your sacred spot."

"What's so sacred about it?" The pressure was deep and making him feel uncomfortable, particularly because the tent had risen again and he felt like he was going to come, and that was not good because he'd rather do that while inside her; but he was kind of at her mercy. The waves were tossing him about.

"You'll see," she said as she pressed a little harder and the sensations shot through him like lightening. "If you feel like you're going to ejaculate, breathe deeply."

"I'd rather..." he panted as the pressure sent jolts that had him cringing, because by now he would normally be in the act, but not this time, "…be inside you…right now...please." He hated the damn whine in his throat, he'd never had to whine for anyone.

"Just hold on." She leaned over and kissed him while her hand worked on that 'sacred spot', and it took every bit of strength in the Texan not to grab her, flip her onto her back, and plunge into her. But that would piss her off, and he knew that she wasn't one to take crap like that.

The pressure continued while his mind and his body were at war. His mind was screaming the memories and warnings while his body was tensing up and struggling to hold back the other animals that were out of control - his friggin' emotions.

"_Oh sweet Jesus he's a pretty one."_

He tried to grab her hand away, but she shushed him softly and told him to trust her. "You don't want to spend the rest of your life in a shell, hiding from the world," she said as she pressed harder in small circles.

"This is a getting too freaky, but...I..." He rolled his head from side to side as she continued to apply the pressure which was breaking down emotional walls that had been there since the attack.

It wasn't an orgasm he was having, but a bloody meltdown. Was this what she was friggin' talking about? A tsunami of emotions he didn't know he had came forth. He curled away from her and sobbed uncontrollably. Shit, he was an emotional guy and hated it, but there was something different about this. It was as if the rage he'd felt for the past 30 years came pouring out, and he gripped the pillow and simply cried, remembering the first few days when he was nine and walked around feeling like he was filth to a few months ago when he turned into two sickos' plaything.

"What the hell was that?!" he cried out both freaked and embarrassed by his reaction, "What the fuck?!" What kind of game was she playing with him?

She smiled triumphantly and said, "A very normal reaction to a Lingam Massage."

"Fuck that." He turned away from her, angry and horny all at once. He didn't know whether he should just leave and think this girl was a masochist or master sex teacher, but as he managed to bring his bloody emotions to a more controlled factor he had to admit that he felt calmer then he had in weeks. He knew that he should have sought therapy after, but he wasn't ready for it. He didn't want to deal with what happened. The problem was that it dealt with him, and not in a good way. It led him to this park with the intention of annihilating his attacker.

"Anger is a good emotion. It means you're still in the land of the living," she said as she sat near him and drew up a blanket to cover him while he fought with the waves of anger, pity, rage, and desire and wasn't sure which one to allow to take over the scene. He was still aroused, the tent still perked.

Once he decided he wasn't going to leave he rolled over to face her with an indignant look.

"You're cute when you're mad, Nicky." She looked at him, the comforter up to her chest.

"You're a ...a …bitch!" he said, shocked at himself for saying this as he never called a woman a bitch, at least to her face. He'd muttered it many times about Catherine and Sara - in particular Sara after he got the promotion (which was subsequently taken from him-DAMN ECKLIE) and she treated him like dirt for weeks and weeks. He called Sara lots of things during that time, just not to her face. To her face he was as sweet as apple pie, but at home he threw darts and imagined her face on the dartboard. And freakin' Ecklie? Nick had split the dartboard over that one.

"I know, but you liked it, didn't you?" She smiled, almost flattered by his insult.

"Yeah, it was...cool. Not the emotional part, but the rest of it was good." He reluctantly admitted.

"What's wrong with emotions?"

"It gets me into trouble at work," he bemoaned.

"Because your job is a job based on cold facts, not emotions," she said.

He leaned on his arm and reflected on what she said. "Yeah, I get into trouble because I'm empathetic to the victims. I just feel their pain. I wish I could be a robot and just do that damn job without feeling that way."

She slid down and faced him. "But you're not there now, Nick. You're here with me, and it's safe to be emotional." She stroked the side of his face.

Without hesitation he drew her to him, and their bodies were flush. The anger he was feeling toward her melded into desire, and he showed her exactly how his hands could pleasure a woman as he reached down and slid them inside her, finding the nub and probing, igniting her soft, rapid breathing.

Now she was at his mercy as his mouth found its way to her breasts, and he teased her as she whispered, "You know what they call the clitoris..."

"Humor me!" he mumbled.

"The Sacred Jewel."

"I agree with that one."

Eponine passed the condom over and with her help, it was slid on (both making sure for their own protection-given the circumstances), Nick moved himself onto her as U2 sang about tripping through wires, and he entered Eponine but then withdrew.

"You tease!" she mumbled, knowing what he was up to.

"Yeah, like you did earlier."

"That was therapy." Eponine glared in a playful manner as he tried it again, but then she threw her legs around his waist and held him down saying, "Oh no you don't." Then she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pinned him down.

McVeigh and Smith were ghosts that were disappearing in his head as Nick made love to Eponine as if it were his first time. His emotions were comprised of fear and excitement as carnal instincts took hold, and it was as if his attack had never happened. His lips found hers again and again, hot and tantalizing, chasing fear into the distance while his libido did a Super Bowl happy dance at the action.

The activity on the bed bore weight on the bed springs as they rang out, but neither cared. She ran her nails up and down his spine sending shivers, and every so often she ran a tongue down his ear canal. He returned the favor as she whispered to him about various erogenous zones throughout the body, and for some people the ear was one of them - a fact he knew, and he showed her how much he knew, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

"God, I'm glad Stephanie's not here!" Eponine laughed in between gasps, and then she pushed him gently onto his back on the other end of the bed. "Do you know what this position is sometimes called?"

"Humor me!" Nick said again, his hands reaching up and molding her ample bosom.

"The cowgirl!" Eponine told him as she eased her way onto him. "Yeah, really." She rocked and ran her hands along his chest, then arched. "Want me to yell 'yee haw, cowboy'?"

"_How you likin' this cowboy?" _

Nick closed his eyes, stopping all action, and squeezed them hard, hoping that the little intrusion wouldn't ruin things, but for a moment he was back in the library feeling the pain, the humiliation, and the fear, wondering if he was going to come out of this alive.

"It's okay, Nick." Eponine's voice pierced through the memory. "You're still here with me. Breathe deeply!"

He opened his eyes again and thanked God he hadn't gone soft. But to be safe he sat up, still connected to her as she straddled him, and they rocked for the last act of the play.

"How..." he gasped, "how did you know?"

"Your body tensed up." Her hair was plastered against her clammy face. "Breathe deeply. This is awesome!" She sat up and motioned for him to come closer as they held each other tightly, all while still connected as she rose up and down, squeezing him hard, sending lightening bolts through him.

He could feel himself building up from the same pit that the emotional outburst had come from earlier, but now it was an intense orgasm - one that NASA would register on their system - and he gripped her tightly as she urged him to let it go, and when he did it was a muffled cry into her shoulder as his extremities tingled and his hands gripped her tightly to him. He was just coming down from the top of the proverbial mountain when hers struck, and she cried out with her head back and her back arched as Nick kissed her neck and then slid his hands onto her shoulder blades. He brought her up and she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his damp hair.

Neither said much. Nick just held her, steadying his breathing and basking in the hazy afterglow, noticing through the horizontal blinds that it was dawn as the red sky peered through, lighting the room softly.

"What time does Stephanie come home?" he mumbled, hoping the answer would be 'much later' because not being in the best shape due to illness had made this romp an exhausting adventure, and not just physically. Emotionally he felt like he'd been put through the spin cycle. That 'Lingam Massage', as good as it was, was an intense journey. He was drained and didn't think he could make it back to his trailer.

"Not for a few hours. The girls probably stayed up way too late if I know them." Eponine drew back and looked down at Nick, stroking his forehead. "I'm going to take Charlie out for a minute and then go back to sleep." She reluctantly crawled off him and began to pull on her clothes as the dog (who had been very polite and stayed out of the room) trotted in, tail wagging so happily that it banged on the door frame.

Nick was exhausted. "Mind if I stay here and catch a few zzzs?" He pulled the comforter up around him, by now not caring if the answer was no because he was so tuckered out she'd have to tie him to that horse of a dog and have him carried home.

"Not at all, my dear." Eponine smiled. "I'd love that actually."

"And I lo..." Nick stopped himself before he could say it.

"Sure that's not that good sex talking?" she asked, pulling a baggy t-shirt over her head.

"No." His answer was sincere. "Not at all."

She leaned over and kissed him, pulling the covers over him, and whispered, "Ditto. Sweet dreams, Nick, for once."

He heard the words and tried to mumble something in response but was too sleepy and simply let it be.

As she walked out with Charlie in tow, Nick thought about his plan for McVeigh and realized that carrying out this plan would be an absolute end for him in more ways than he could count. Not that the parolee didn't deserve it, but perhaps Nick could finally put that horrible ordeal behind him and put his life back in order. Not that sex was the answer…he needed professional help, and perhaps it was time to get back to Vegas to his job and face whatever was there waiting for him. Maybe he'd overreacted that night he took off. There was no evidence in the prison as far as he knew, and he'd hid that damn bag so well no one would find it. His secret was safe.

Those two would never see justice, but that didn't mean he couldn't move forward. It wasn't a romp in the sack that did it, but the normalcy of it that did the trick. Life would and could go on. Eponine had told him on their way back to the trailer that Karma has a way of coming back to haunt you, and Nick thought for sure McVeigh would get what was coming to him.

Just not at his hands.

_**A/N Whew that was tough, that was embarrassing. I'm not an expert on anything I wrote, just did some research on sex and healing and found lots of information on the Lingam Massage and other elements of healing sex.**_

_**Not that I think this is the solution for all victims of assault, but this is fanfiction, so I can do whatever I want**_.


	11. Chapter 11

**IRREVERSIBLE**

**CHAPTER 11**

_I just got lost  
Every river that I've tried to cross  
And every door I ever tried was locked  
And I'm just waiting till the shine wears off...  
_

_Lost-Cold Play from Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends_

_SORRY FOR THE DOUBLE POSTING-AGAIN-I WAS CHASING A KITTEN OFF MY KEYBOARD!!_

THANKS AGAIN SMOKEY!!

The Graveyard team stood in front of the map in stony silence as the facts unrolled themselves threateningly before their eyes with blues and browns taking this warning in carefully, but anxiously.

Greg circled the coordinates they got off Mandy's cell phone and Warrick circled the address of the King Park Trailer.

They overlapped as Warrick drew the last portion of the circle; he turned and faced the team with a horrified look.

Nick and McVeigh were in the same trailer park, the circles from the coordinates overlapped one another.

Quickly, Warrick dialed the number of the trailer park, the number listed on a website he printed off, and grumbled, "Got some voice mail, girl saying she wouldn't be in for the day."

"I'm going to contact the local Sheriff and ask him to track Nick down." Catherine was in an absolute state of panic for Nick and was angry that she hadn't tried to stop him earlier. And she was angry at herself for not figuring this whole thing out sooner and reaching out to him, but the man was like Mr. Spock at times. He'd been hanging around Gil Grissom so long that he'd surreptitiously picked up his cold demeanor, to his own detriment. She prayed to God that he hadn't done anything yet, nothing that would put him in jail. Nick was not rational the day he left Vegas; he was not in a sound mind. He was victimized, traumatized and demoralized.

"I don't think that's a good idea Catherine." Grissom shook his head.

"Why not?"

"We don't want any undue attention given to Nick right now."

"Nick could be doing something stupid right now!" she cried, and she felt in her heart that her buddy, her friend, her protégé was in deep trouble, that he was indeed up to something that would ruin him. She criticized herself over and over again for not picking up clues sooner; not confronting him sooner and not stopping him before he left. What the hell was she thinking letting him go off like that?

Grissom stayed the course. "Catherine, let's stay calm and have faith in Nick that he might actually not be doing anything at this moment."

"He hasn't answered his cell phone to me in weeks."

"He's not ready to deal with this, Catherine," Grissom said, finally managing to put himself in Nick's shoes and wonder how he'd be handling such an attack. A part of Grissom admired the Texan's tenacity in the weeks after the attack and his dedication to a job that saw him catch a child killer. That took strength.

But he too was frightened for Nick, hoping that logic was going to win this battle over its stronger opponent: impulsivity. Over the years, it seemed to be winning on a regular basis, but trauma did terrible things to the brain. The bugman had just finished reading an article on the web about a study done on military personnel coming back from Iraq and survivors of 9/11 who suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), and this quote came upon him:

_It was found in PTSD patients, that the medial prefrontal cortex did not 'turn on' normally. This increased the symptoms of PTSD. When this area was damaged, patients were unable to turn off their fear responses, and they were found to stay on 'full alert', thus increasing their sense of hypervigilance. Patients suffering PTSD never feel safe._

Now, not all survivors of trauma suffer from PTSD, and who was to say that this what Nick was suffering from at this moment? Maybe he just needed to get away and think things through about whether or not to come forward. After he was buried alive, it was at least a year before someone could walk up behind Nick and not scare the living shit out of the guy, but after time it seemed 'it was over'.

Maybe it wasn't over.

If Nick really wanted some thinking time, then why did he pick a trailer park where his assailant was residing? All Grissom could conclude was that Nick would not feel safe to even exist in this world unless McVeigh was dead.

Information - this is how Gil Grissom coped with Nick's attack. He had been researching everything about male sexual assault and trauma. Being an info junkie had its benefits, as now he understood the complexities involved with such an assault. The lack of knowledge he had is the sad reality of male sexual assault. Less than 4 percent of men report sexual assault on their person.

Given Nick's profession, it was understandable that he said nothing during those weeks. He had double the shame to deal with. How he managed to continue working was astounding, but the Texan was born with an amazing ability to cope well under stress. Grissom saw that strength in Nick when he was buried alive, and no matter what went on in there, the guy had held it together. Grissom himself wouldn't have lasted as long.

Unfortunately, all the research in the world was not going to help Nick. The guy needed to see a professional to sort through this mess. All Grissom could do was simply be there. But how? What would he say to the demoralized man? He wasn't sure.

"We haven't heard anything so far, so let's not jump the gun," Grissom said as they sat in his office. Just then his cell rang and he looked at it – Doc Robbins. "I'm gonna go see the Doc for a bit. Just hang in there, Catherine. Get Warrick and we'll start to head out. Okay?"

She mumbled affirmatively and he took off.

xxXXxx

Grissom headed into the Doc's office where he sat reading a fax he'd just received.

"Well, this is interesting." He shuffled over and showed Grissom the fax from PEI Laboratories.

Grissom read the fax, cocked an eyebrow, and stared at the Doc in confusion. "So, Smith wasn't HIV Positive at all."

"Not in the least. The Lab made a grave error," Doc said in a huff. "This is what the taxpayers get when they start privatizing everything under the sun."

"Well, that's good news for Nick and one less thing I have to talk to him about."

"It's probably a good idea that he get tested if he hasn't been, although I do know his doctor and he's usually thorough like that," Doc told him.

"We're going to go see Nick at the trailer park he's been staying at," Grissom told him. "I'm…"

"Stumped as to what to say?" Doc finished his sentence.

"Maybe I should let Catherine deal with it. Maybe I shouldn't go there at all."

"I don't agree," the coroner said. "As squeamish as you all find this subject matter to be, don't let it interfere with the fact that this is one of ours. He needs support."

Grissom nodded and started out. "Yes, he does. Nick has got my support 110 percent, Doc."

"And again, I'll remind you that it's better this way than the alternative - to have him in one of my storage freezers."

xxXXxx

"So you're heading back to Vegas then?" Eponine sat up in bed, sheets across her, watching as Nick dressed as they listened to a Cold Play ballad - one that had even the Texan choking up at the sound of Chris Martin's yearning voice.

_That's how I'm feeling… lost, locked out. Shut out. _

"Yeah, time for me to get back to the grind of things. Think I'm gonna buy this album. This is kind of a cool song."

Eponine smiled and rubbed a toe against his back, causing him to smile. He was exhausted. He'd only slept for about an hour, but woke up feeling her body pressed up against his, and Eros dominated the room once more. But he had put too much energy into it and was still recovering from his bout with Hepatitis B. His doctor had told him it would be months before he would make a full recovery from it. So rest was in order, and wisely he knew he wouldn't get it here in Eponine's trailer. So he reluctantly sat up and started to get dressed again.

"Do you feel ready for all that again?"

"Well, probably not full time. I've got enough seniority there that I could go back on a limited schedule," he explained.

"Yeah." She stretched out, looking so damn erotic that he wanted to take another go. This girl had shown him moves and positions that he'd never heard of before. He was freakin' lucky to have found this one. Maybe there was a God and he had sent him here.

Oh wait, scratch that. He was Nick Stokes, God's new bitch, and he decided that it was probably time to see that therapist his doctor had told him about. Eponine had shone a light on him, but he was still pretty much in the dark. Despair reined his soul in, and it would take more than a good romp to get past it. But the rage seemed to at least go into hiding and give him a break, allowing him to try to detour this dangerous path he was on - to finish John McVeigh.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Just thinking about what's gonna happen when I go back," he said.

"It will be fine, Nick," she said.

"What if they find out?" His insides churned madly at the idea.

"Then you deal with whatever comes from it," she answered.

"I don't know how I'd ever face them again."

"The onus will be on them to make it easier for you, Nick, not vice versa. Don't worry about them. Worry about you."

"How much are you charging me for these therapy sessions?" he teased.

Eponine sat up, the sheet falling askew around her. If Nick were a photographer, he'd be all over her with his camera capturing this portrait.

"You've paid your bill already."

She leaned over to kiss him, and damn if he didn't want to take her in his arms and go back to the land of Eden with her. With her, it was more than sex because he felt a safety and a security that eluded him; something he himself didn't realize he needed. But everyone needed to feel somewhat secure in their lives…somewhat safe.

Reality hit home with him as his body protested thus too loudly. He was still sick, and reluctantly he pulled away and smiled sadly. "Sorry."

"Hey." She leaned back in to the headboard. "You were...awesome."

"Yeah, even though I cried like a baby?" Nick shook his head.

"That happens sometimes with the Lingam Massage. It can bring up a lot of intense emotions." She pulled the sheet up.

"Well, it certainly brought up more then that, but now I'm tuckered out and need to get some rest." He pulled his crumpled clothes on, every nook and cranny of his being complaining and wanting to crawl back in and get some sleep.

"I'm sorry if it freaked you out."

"No, it was actually kind of cool," he admitted. "It calmed me down a bit, but don't tell anyone about it."

She shook her head. "Of course not."

"And," he grinned, "on my days off, I'd like to come out and visit. I mean, does it have to end because I'm going back?"

"Not if you don't want it to, but I have to tell you this. I can't handle anything too intense right now."

Nick shrugged, "Me either."

"You're an awesome guy, but my ex did a number on me, and I know two things, Nick: One is, I struggle with trust big time, and two: I'm very bitter and it will be a long time before I resolve that." She looked into his eyes and wondered what the response would be.

"I...I'm too fucked up right now to even think about the future," Nick said. "I just want to live in the moment right now because you never know when life will end, and that's how I feel. No matter where I go at this point, Eponine, what happened to me at the prison follows me everywhere. It's a shadow that just clings to me, and I can never escape it no matter who I'm with or how much therapy I get. I will never get past it or over it because you just don't get past these things. Life is never the same. You're never the same. I feel like something inside me died that day. It's the same way I felt after being buried alive… as if part of myself never came out the grave."

"That's how trauma works," Eponine said. "The day I caught my ex-husband with a younger woman in my bed changed me forever. I'll never get past it, not at this point, which is why I can't promise you anything intense. As for trauma, Nick, people treat you with a lot more sympathy if you're in a motor accident than when you've been hit with an emotional event that rocks your soul."

"Yeah," Nick said.

"Are you okay with what I just told you about the status of our relationship?"

He nodded, but at this point he'd agree with a lobotomy as he was exhausted.

She seemed satisfied with the answer. Then she pulled herself up and out. "I think we should have a barbecue tonight to celebrate your goodbye."

He leaned back over and kissed her. "I'd like that."

"Good, now get out before my brother gets back with Stephanie."

"Your brother doesn't have a say in your sex life?" Nick laughed, pulling his shirt over his head.

"No, but I don't really want to say anything to Steph."

Nick said, "Okay, I'm leaving. Do you want anything or need anything? I can go get some groceries."

"Yeah, let me just get a list going." She quickly threw on a t-shirt and track pants and drew up a list. "There you go." She leaned over and kissed him, and he reluctantly left the safe confines of her trailer.

As Nick walked back to his trailer, the hairs on the back of his neck raised as a voice spoke to him.

"Do I know you?"

He slowly turned around.

McVeigh was standing there staring down at him. Nick gulped, took a step back, and muttered in a thick, southern, accent, "No, you don't know me." He looked around to see if anyone was watching them, but by this time everyone had gone on to work, school, or various activities around the small town. It was just him and McVeigh, and Nick was a foot smaller and wiry - more so than when he was attacked, due to illness.

Now McVeigh (as he noticed) was thinner than when he last saw him and also seemed jaundiced. He was sporting a goatee, and his long hair was done up in a pony tail that hid the hideous bald spot on the back of his head. He wore faded jeans and a black AC/DC t-shirt.

"You sure do look familiar."

McVeigh started to walk closer to Nick who backed off and snarled, "Get the fuck away from me."

"Hey! Hey! Where's your manners, cowboy? I just wanna talk to you." McVeigh continued to walk closer, and Nick felt his rage kick into gear, propelling him to deliver a swift side kick to McVeigh's stomach. McVeigh bent over, grappling his abdomen while Nick clenched his fists and with both elbows nailed him squarely on the back, knocking McVeigh flat.

With his attacker slightly immobilized, the Texas was able to run at breakneck speed back to his trailer, pull his rifle out of a bag where it had sat dormant for several weeks, and storm back out to where McVeigh was waiting. Upon seeing Nick with the rifle, the parolee stopped dead in his tracks, hands instinctively in the air.

"Get the fuck away from me!!" Nick growled, eyes in a blind fury. "Get the fuck away from me or I swear to God I'll blow your goddamn head off!!"

McVeigh's face was contorted into a sneer, and he smiled as he said, "I'll get you for this."

"What more can you do to me, McVeigh?" Nick laughed sardonically. "You've done enough."

"What are you doing here anyway, cowboy? I thought I taught you a lesson at the prison." McVeigh laughed. "You come back for more? I can give you that. You sure were good at the prison. That sweet ass of yours felt real good."

"Shut the fuck up!" Nick shouted angrily as memories played. "I don't want to hear it. Believe me, I'll use this, and I know exactly where I'll start!" He pointed the gun down at McVeigh's crotch. Nick smiled menacingly. The thought of blowing the guy's crotch off made him feel gleeful. "I came here to make sure you weren't hurting anyone else," Nick explained, his rifle still aimed on McVeigh.

"You sure brought a big gun for that didn't you?" McVeigh snickered.

"Yeah, I did." Nick smiled menacingly. "Now go back to your trailer and leave me alone, or I'll make a call to your parole officer and let him know you've been stalking me."

A time bomb ticked in Nick's head as the gun held steady, and for a moment his finger started to press down on the trigger, but he lifted it and ordered, "McVeigh, get the fuck back to your trailer." His voice shook.

McVeigh nodded and slowly walked off. "You just keep doin' that, because you never know what I plan to do."

"Is that a threat, McVeigh?"

"That's a promise, Stokes, and it's you who has been stalking me, so get off your fucking soap box!"

"Go back to your trailer and behave yourself!"

McVeigh started walking and said, "You sure were good that day, Stokes."

Nick started charging him with the gun but stopped, hearing a small voice in his head telling him no, this wasn't the answer. Yeah, he had plenty of reason to, and he could tell the police that McVeigh was threatening him, but he couldn't. He wanted to, but he couldn't.

He stayed in that position until McVeigh's form grew smaller and smaller. By now Nick was shaking so hard he thought he'd lose the grip on the rifle. He watched as McVeigh slinked off through the bushes and was gone. Sweat poured down his face. His arm pits were soaked, his body was soaked. His intestines wanted to slink out of him and drop to the ground along with the rest of his lower anatomy and any contents within.

He quietly went into his house and laid the rifle on the table, grabbed some bottled water from the fridge, and sat down. His hand was near the phone, wanting to call Eponine and tell her everything…to be careful. But he couldn't. Nick was paralyzed with fear; a fear he hadn't felt since…well that day.

_While they attacked him, there were plenty of opportunities to escape. But at that point, the fear had rendered him immobile. The gun against his temple was threatening to go off at any second, and that damn gun barely moved._

_He had been hog tied, and like a hog he was unable to do anything to change his situation, so he simply prayed for survival._

"_You doin' real good, cowyboy."_

_Kisses on his back._

_Tears streaming down, stinging his cheeks._

He picked up the phone and called Eponine. "Hey, you know what? I'm sorry, but I need to go rest for a bit."

"Did I wear you out?" she asked cheerfully.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Oh okay. I can ask Mrs. Riley to take care of things. I'll see you later."

Nick lay down and drifted off.

xxXXxx

Grissom was about to head out with the team when Ecklie walked in looking very gloomy. He had been wearing that demeanor since the day Grissom broke the news about Nick's attack. At first Ecklie had thought Grissom was playing a sick joke on him, but then when the evidence was presented to him, he realized it was no joke. Ecklie's first thought was to file a lawsuit against the prison, and Grissom assumed that this was what he was here for, but instead the conversation headed in a very strange direction.

"I've got some news for you about Charles Smith," Ecklie told him. "The day shift is out at the prison now. He hung himself in his cell."

Grissom sunk onto his desk in shock as Ecklie handed him a small envelope inside a bag.

"I made sure this got to you right away, and I've asked the CSI who found it to keep this quiet."

Grissom read the letter:

_Dear Mr. Stokes:_

_I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about what my friend and I did to you in the prison library. I know it was wrong, and my preacher told me that I needed to ask for you forgiveness in order to go to Heaven._

_We killed Conrad Noire. The stick is hidden in the mattress I sleep on. McVeigh took the first shot and I took the second. Noire was gonna get us separated and we didn't want that. He was against our relationship._

_Afterwards we snuck into the library and waited till the coast was clear. Then we saw you and McVeigh thought this was a sign from someone up there. He talked about you over the years and how your daddy done screwed him up big time. How his going to jail over a B&E and killing a cat ruined his chances of ever getting into law enforcement. _

_Then I met you years ago when I killed my wife and kids. I don't know why I did. But I'm sorry I did it._

_As for the prison, every night I go to sleep I see your face and how fucking scared you were, man. You probably thought we was gonna kill you. The truth was we were, and I was the one going to do it with your gun, but the look on your face changed my mind and I felt sorry for you. You looked like a lamb ready for the slaughter. You didn't have a chance against us. It wasn't your fault. I dressed you up afterwards, thought you deserved a little respect. I don't know why I didn't stop McVeigh. I still see your face at night and the fear in your eyes and the pain you must have felt. Man, I am sorry we put you through that._

_Please forgive me Mr. Stokes and I pray that someday you'll find some peace._

_Charles Smith_

Grissom sighed heavily and looked up at Ecklie whose expression was pure blankness. "Thank you, Conrad," he managed to say.

"I just want you to tell Nick that when he comes back nothing will change for him here. Everything will be as it was before he left," Ecklie said solemnly.

Grissom smiled faintly. "I think he'll be glad to hear that."

xxXXxx

The bugman was about to leave when his cell rang: Sara

"Hi!" she said.

"Hey!"

"Any word on Nick?"

"Well, we seemed to know where he was, but not yet."

Sara was quiet. "Listen, I'm sorry I was so tough on you earlier."

"No, you're right, Sara. I haven't been handling this well."

"It's not easy, Gil, to deal with this, but the system isn't set up well to handle these cases," she said quietly, her voice staticy.

"No, but I'm going to make it my job to put whatever we have in place to help him, Sara. I've got to work with what we have."

"He needs assurance that his identity will be concealed. Can you imagine how it feels being a victim of sexual assault and working in the field? He's humiliated, Gil. He's degraded. I mean, this guy is known in the lab as macho grande, so can you imagine what he's going through right now?"

"I know."

"Why didn't you stop him before he left?" Sara asked.

"Sara." Grissom was at a loss for words and then tried to find them. "I…I don't know what I'm going to say to him when I see him."

"Just tell him what you found and then assure him that he's still the same guy. That's all he wants. Remember when he was buried alive and he came back to work and wanted to get back into it? This is what he lives and breathes for, Gil. His tenacity far exceeds mine. Don't let that be taken from him."

"I don't want it to be taken from him, Sara. I know this is what he lives and breathes, but will he be the same person as before? He wasn't himself before he left. God knows what we'll find when he turns up."

"Gil, just don't be the jerk you were to him before this."

"I've never been a jerk to Nick." Grissom was taken aback by the accusation. He knew that he and Nick didn't have the best relationship, but that was just a personality clash.

"Oh please!" Sara interjected. "Silk, silk, silk? Yelling at him over the Paul Millander case when he was trying to appease you? I could go on, but I only have a few minutes of free time. Now you know I love you, Gil, but you are a lousy boss!"

Grissom felt like he had been kicked in the cojones. "I never wanted this job, Sara."

"Well, you could have fooled me in the past eight years."

"I'm doing my best, Sara. I've got Catherine on my back and now you!"

"What? Because I'm your girlfriend I can't be honest with you professionally?" Her voice softened. "Look, just…just find a way to reach Nick. He's lost, he's scared, he's angry, and he has every right to be. You guys just have to bring this son of a bitch to justice and then be his friend, that's all."

"If he lets us," Grissom countered.

"Even if he doesn't, just be one. He'll get through this. He's got more strength emotionally than all of us put together."

There was a heavy silence because they were no longer an 'us' as she had quit, but obviously it was taking time for her to accept her rash decision to leave.

They spoke a few minutes more and then Grissom saw Catherine waving to him that it was time to go.

"Good luck, Grissom," Sara told him.

"Thank you, and I promise I'll look after him."

He heard a smile in her voice. "I know you will."

xxXXxx

Nick sat up abruptly in bed feeling panicked and confused. Running a clammy hand down a clammy face he looked around and saw that it was close to the time the barbecue was to start. So he crawled out of bed and took a shower in the small stall. As the water poured down, he couldn't shake the ominous feeling he had and a trepidation that he probably should have told Eponine the full truth about what happened out there with McVeigh.

"_We doing the Judge's boy!"_

Nick whipped around to assure himself that all was well in that small stall.

He towel dried himself and dressed in some fresh clothes. Then he took a deep breath and started out again with one thought ringing in his head.

"_I should have killed him when I had the chance. I had a chance and I could have done it and I would have had one hell of a good excuse."_

But McVeigh did say something very poignant to him.

"_It's you who has been stalking me so get off your fucking soap box!"_

It was a mistake for him to come here and he knew it; his being here had probably caused more harm than good.

He would tell Eponine the whole story, in person, after the barbecue.

**A/N: And so the drama begins again.**

**Check out the song 'Lost' by ColdPlay-I think it will be a hit!**


	12. Chapter 12

**IRREVERSIBLE**

**CHAPTER 12**

_It's the devil's way now  
There is no way out  
You can scream and you can shout_

_It is too late now_

_2+25 by Radiohead_

_Thanks for the reviews guys, you've been so awesome._

_Thanks to all the people who have signed on-I hope I don't disappoint you._

_Thanks to Smokey for her beta!_

"I just got off the phone with Sheriff McKay. He's going to send a cruiser out to the trailer park to check on Nick," Warrick said from the backseat of the Denali as he clicked his cell phone. The sun was beginning to set and an orange hue shone over the vehicle.

"I still don't think calling the sheriff was a good idea," Grissom said. "We might risk Nick taking off somewhere else again. We don't know what his state of mind is."

"And that's why he needs to be watched," Catherine told him. "It's for Nick's own protection. We didn't tell the man why he needs to be checked, just to please do us a favor."

She looked in the mirror and could see Warrick's arms crossed, his eyes red with anger and fear, his goatee showing signs of grey. He was still struggling to come to grips with what happened. His face wore a seething anger, the kind she'd seen the day Nick was kidnapped.

Greg wore a blank expression and had been wearing the same expression since the day he found the clothes in the closet. He was like a zombie.

Never mind. They had to deal with this on their own terms. Catherine's number one priority was ensuring Nick didn't add to his troubles by carrying out some revenge plan.

xxXXxx

The smell of barbecued chicken permeated the air as Nick sat at the picnic table quietly eating while Mr. and Mrs. Riley argued about who would make a better president, John McCain or Barack Obama.

"McCain's more experienced!" Mr. Riley exclaimed while barbecue sauce dribbled on his chin.

"Yes, but Obama brings fresh blood to the White House. I don't want to go through another dynasty. Been there, done that, got the vast amounts of poverty to go with it," Mrs. Riley said, passing him a napkin before turning to Nick. "Who would you like to see win?"

"Uh…" Nick hesitated as he wasn't really sure what was happening on the US political scene other then Obama won the Democratic nomination.

_Catherine should be happy._

"John McCain," Lee smirked. "I mean, you are from Texas, home of the Bushes!"

Nick shrugged. His mind was on anything but politics at the moment. "It doesn't matter to me."

"Are you okay?" Eponine asked while spreading some Thousand Island dressing on her garden salad.

Nick looked at her and smiled assuring. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Did you two have a nice evening?" Mrs. Riley winked.

Eponine smiled back. "It was awesome!"

"The play or afterwards?" Mrs. Riley asked with a knowing grin.

"Oh for God's sake, Marg!" Mr. Riley groaned, half embarrassed half exasperated. "You're so damn nosey. Nick, accept my apologies for my nosey wife."

Nick wasn't too concerned about who knew what and answered, "Don't worry about it."

The choice for music today was given to Stephanie, and of course, being of preteen years, she chose a CD mix comprised of all things High School Musical, The Jonas Brothers, and Miley Cyrus who was singing about how she couldn't wait to see her crush again.

"She's got a good voice," Nick commented. "I actually like this song."

"Got a crush on Miley, don't you?!" Lee smirked. "Careful, if Billy Ray catches that some 40 year old man has a crush on his 16 year old daughter, he'll be hunting you down."

"I'm 36, and I was making a statement of fact. The kid can sing." Nick sighed in exasperation.

Stephanie joined in with Miley and twirled around with her beret.

"Personally," he whispered to Eponine, "I think Miley's got some stiff competition coming up."

Eponine smiled. "Yeah, but she doesn't have Billy Ray's pull with the industry."

"Aww, don't let that stop her." Nick munched on some salad, noticing he hadn't put any dressing on it.

Stephanie came twirling around and around singing, "Oh, she's just being Miley!" beret on head, while perfecting an arabesque, leaning on Nick's shoulder for balance.

"Can you dance with me, Nick?" She grinned.

"Maybe later," he said and watched as she lost her grip and fell onto her mom.

"Stephanie!" Her mom said as the little girl crashed into her. "For crying out loud, will you sit down and eat!"

"I'm not hungry. Can't Charlie come out?"

"Charlie's been acting strange all day, Stephanie. I thought he should stay inside," Eponine told her. "Now eat!"

"Can I go to Amanda's?" She scooped in between Eponine and Nick and started to munch on a kebob.

"Take two bites and I'll say yes," her mother said firmly.

Stephanie took two teeny bites of chicken and was off.

Nick asked, "What's with Charlie?"

"He's been nervous all day and barking. I don't know what's up with him," Eponine dismissed as the dog barked loudly.

"Sometimes animals are trying to tell you something when they act up," Nick told her, hoping the dog would alert Eponine to any danger.

But she was resolute in keeping him in the trailer as she answered, "No, he's being a pain."

Lee sipped a frothy Coors and said, "I should call my girlfriend before she wonders what I'm up to."

"Oh god!" Eponine groaned. "You are so pussy whipped!"

Lee's blue eyes dazzled. "Yeah, I sure was the other day."

"How did that lubricant work?" Mrs. Riley asked.

"FANTASTIC!!" Lee pumped his fist in the air triumphantly like a runner who had just finished the Boston Marathon.

"Good, it's supposed to make you tingle to the point where you blow to pieces," she said.

"Oh yeah!" Lee smiled in memory.

Nick cleared his throat, shocked at the old lady's very open talk. Mr. Riley leaned over and said, "I've been listening to this for years, Nick, I'm used to it."

"Oh I'm learning real fast!" Nick told the old man sheepishly, throwing a meaningful glance towards a blushing Eponine.

"I knew it!" Mrs. Riley clasped her hands together. "I knew you two would get together! That's why I brought her all the condoms. So did you like the fluorescent one, Nick?"

"Umm..." Nick felt his face turning 50 shades of red. "Can we go back to talking about Obama and McCain? I really kind of like Obama."

"Nick's an old fashion southerner," Eponine explained, feigning a poor southern accent. "They don't talk about sex in Texas."

"So, you know I really like Obama, and I think he's a great choice for president." Nick bounded along trying to steer the conversation away from his evening with Eponine. His mind was on far more serious matters; how to relate what he knew about McVeigh without causing a commotion. Eponine was liable to go over to McVeigh's and kick him out of the park immediately, but would that be a good thing? His mind raced with questions and explanations.

Everyone broke into laughter, and soon the table was cleared as Nick helped Eponine bring the dishes into the kitchen. "You know," she whispered huskily, "I could kick my brother out and ask Amanda's mom if Stephanie could spend the night."

Nick sorted the recyclables out from the garbage, placing the plates and bottles into the blue bin and the cardboard into the grey bin and said, "Yeah, if you want," thinking it would be a good time tonight to tell her. He looked at her on the phone and decided no, it was the right time now. It was only after the little girl had trotted off that he realized it might be too late. A red flag had been waving at him since the child had left and now it had turned into a full fledged red alert!

"Hi Shelly, it's Ep. How are you doing? Listen, can Stephanie stay the night with you? Fabulous! Just tell her to come back and I'll…what do you mean she's not there? She said she was going to your house. Okay...thanks."

She hung up the phone and looked alarmed at Nick as he finished placing the recyclables in the appropriate container. Al Gore would be so proud.

"She's not there," Eponine said.

Nick took a deep breath. "Okay…well maybe she wandered off to the basketball court."

"Yeah, that sounds like something she would do." Eponine stared at him, fear-stricken.

"Let me go check," Nick said, and he quickly walked out the door.

Lee was talking on the cell phone and saw the worried look on Nick's face. "Just a minute, babe. What's up?"

"Stephanie didn't show up at her friend's place," Nick explained. "I'm going to check the basketball court."

Lee told his girlfriend he'd have to get back to her and clicked his cell phone shut. "I'll go around to some of the neighbours and see if she decided to go visit another kid."

xxXXxx

She wasn't at the basketball court. Nick called her name over and over while feeling the panic in him. The birds in the cage were beginning to flap around madly again. His breathing was sporadic and panicked as he berated himself for not saying anything.

"Please God," he mumbled as McVeigh's threat repeated itself in his head.

He ran back to the trailer where Mrs. Riley stood wringing her hands. "She's still not here. Eponine's getting the neighbour's together." Soon they were flocking to Eponine's trailer, talking about where the little girl could be.

"Have you checked your trailer, Nick?" Lee asked.

Nick hadn't, so he quickly darted over to it, knowing she wouldn't be there. She wasn't allowed to go into anyone's trailers alone, but the kid had Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder and sometimes her mind wandered off. It was something he'd noticed when he was teaching her some basketball trick. As a teenager, Nick had worked with kids with Attention Deficit problems, and all they needed was to be brought back to the here and now, so it was no big deal. Her mother seemed to be more upset about it than Stephanie was.

Nick looked around his trailer. The rifle was still on the table where he'd left it. His cell phone was flashing. He picked it up and thought for a second about calling Catherine until it occurred to him that perhaps Stephanie was at McVeigh's trailer and maybe he had time to get the man before he headed off with her. He bolted out of his trailer and raced over to McVeigh's, averting the bird's nest.

The sun was beginning to set, and its orange glow joined in with the ominous feeling he had. A flurry of conversations replayed themselves. McVeigh's threat was the dominant one, while Grissom's analysis of his sleep paralysis also joined in…that in some cultures it was a warning of ominous things to come

"Come on out, McVeigh! Now!" Nick shouted through the door. "Come out now! Don't fucking hide in there!"

Nick steadied himself and walked around, then found something that caught his attention over to the right of the trailer. He walked toward it slowly as if in a dream, then bent down, picked it up, and clasped it. A haunting voice had replaced the conversations:

"_There is a castle on a cloud_

_I like to go there in my sleep_

_Aren't any floors for me to sweep_

_Not in my castle on a cloud"_

It was Stephanie's beret.

He'd gone with Eponine to see the little girl singing on stage about castles in clouds.

_She had sat on her knees, hands crossed in her lap, dressed in the shapeless frock and shawl, her hair hanging loosely around her shoulders, her face grimy with dirt as was called for the character of Cossette, a little girl whose mom had left her with an innkeeper and his wife who proceeded to abuse her. The song about wishing to be in a happier place was sung so convincingly that several members of the audience were breaking into tears. Stephanie's brown eyes were looking from side to side to make sure each and every person heard her, but most of the time her eyes were on her mom who was dabbing at her eyes in pride and looking at Nick who was thoroughly impressed by the kid's pipes. _

Nick stared closely at the trailer and walked around to see if he could find anything else. He noticed that McVeigh's car wasn't there. The guy had been driving a black SUV with fuzzy dice in the window. Tacky.

Slowly he made his way back to Eponine's trailer. She was standing and talking to some of the neighbours, her eyes wide with worry. She turned and saw Nick walking toward her gravely and saw the beret. She went over to grab it. "Where did you find this?" She snatched it away and held it close to her chest, her brown eyes looking stricken at the sight of it.

"McVeigh's trailer."

"What?!" Eponine cried out in shock. "What the hell would it be doing there, Nick?!"

Nick held his arms out, unable to say anything. Eponine stared daggers at him, and a look of abhorrence came over her face as realization of the truth came to being. The pieces of the puzzle seemed to match and reality woke her up.

"This is about you!" She looked at him, her eyes changing from fear to anger. "This is about you, isn't it? He knows you're here and knows we've been seeing each other." As she spoke she shook the beret at him fiercely.

Nick stood there speechless, unsure of what to say or if he should say anything. Finally he said, "Yes, it is."

She motioned for him to come with her behind her trailer. Nick braced himself for the tirade. "It was him that attacked you? It's all coming together now. You got attacked in a prison; he's a recent parolee; you're here!! Why in God's name are you here, Nick?! Answer me now!" Eponine's voice was laced with seething anger as she pumped him for imformation.

"I …don't…know..." He stuttered because she was right. "I …"

"There was a fucking rapist in my park and you didn't even tell me!!" Her voice was rising to an almost scream. "You son of a bitch!!" Eponine pounded on his shoulders with both fists, screeching, "And he's got my daughter, Nick, he's got my daughter!! I've only got one daughter, Nick, and now she's gone. She's probably dead and it's all your fucking fault!! All of it, Nick Stokes, every fucking ounce of it. I hate you!!"

She continued pounding him while he tried to grab her wrists as she collapsed into deep sobs. Nick went down with her and held her, gasping "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!!" as felt his lungs and heart struggle for air with the realization his lie had turned deadly.

There was nothing more heart-wrenching than the sound of a mother who has lost her child. He'd heard that same grievous howl many times in his career, but now…knowing that he had something to do with it, the pain shot through him as well as if he'd lost a child. The guilt was overwhelming and knife-like, as if a machete had done a through and through his entire being.

Mrs. Riley ran over and helped a shattered Eponine up, reassuring Nick that she'd take care of her.

"Have you called the police?" Nick asked, getting back onto his feet, trying to stay focused on the matter at hand.

"Yes, they're on their way," Mrs. Riley coldly told him as she helped Eponine back into her trailer.

Nick stood there wracked with fear and confusion as he clamped a hand over his mouth, trying not to let the birds take over as they flapped madly inside him. He was just about to call his work to see if someone could come out when he heard a tense voice behind him.

Lee Sargent stood there scowling at him, his muscle bound arms folded, his blue eyes icy, a vein in his forehead seeming to pop out. "What did she mean, Nick? How is Stephanie's disappearance your fault?" he inquired"What does all this have to do with you?"

"Where do you think McVeigh could be?" Nick asked, trying to divert the questions.

Mr. Riley overheard the question while discussing how to start a search party and walked over to him. "Ruby's. He likes to go there a lot. Don't know why. He's not liked by many of the patrons."

Nick looked at Lee and asked, "Do you want to go find him?" He figured if there was going to be a fight; at least let the man beat the one who's at the source of all the trouble here

Lee weighed the thought and then nodded. "You can explain to me in the car why this all goes back to you."

xxXXxx

The team was pulling into the park as Nick's Tahoe pulled out. They narrowly missed each other as the team was distracted by the number of local cruisers heading to the scene.

"What's going on?" Catherine asked as one of them pulled over and got out, darting over to the flurry of cops surrounding the entrance. A beat up sign flashing King Park Trailer in red with its lights starting to come on spotlighted the way in.

Folding her arms, she called out, "Are any of you Sheriff McKay?"

Grissom soon joined her as they tried to get their attention. An older, balding man with a stout build walked toward them. "Yeah I am. You guys from the Vegas lab?"

The entomologist extended his hand and introduced the team to the portly man.

"Well, we're not able to track your friend down as we received a call from a mom here that her daughter was snatched."

Catherine felt a tug on her heart. This case was close to home, and she looked at Grissom who nodded to her. "Let's go see what we can do."

Sheriff McKay was delighted for their help, and he led them to the scene where they spotted a curvaceous woman in her late 30s or early 40s, 5 feet 5 with long black curly hair, looking frazzled and pleading with an older woman of about 50 who was dressed in jeans and a crisp blue blouse, her blackish grey hair swept back in a band.

"Eponine!" McKay called. "C'mere!"

The woman walked over, eyeing Grissom, Catherine, Greg, and Warrick suspiciously. Catherine recognized this stare. It was a look given to outsiders, particularly from those in the lower income bracket since and seemingly felt that the law only cared about them if they had committed a crime. After all, people in trailer parks were thought of as meth dealers and such and unworthy of any legal protection.

"Eponine, this is Gil Grissom and his team. They're criminalists from Vegas."

She eyed them with a measured suspicion and then replaced it with hostility. "So did he ask you guys to come here?"

Catherine and Grissom looked at one another and he asked, "He who?"

"Nick!" she said her tone dripped in anger the mere mention of that name.

"You know Nick?" Catherine asked, trying to figure out how one connected with the other.

"So he didn't send you here," Eponine concluded, confused. "Why are you here then?"

"We were here initially to find Nick, but now we'd like to help out," Catherine told her, trying to emphasize her seriousness in this, but this woman obviously didn't trust her, didn't believe her, and didn't want them in her park.

"We've got it covered," she told her defiantly, "so take your friend, Nick, and get the fuck out of my park!"

Catherine and Grissom stared at each other in shock before the Supervisor stepped forward and told her "We can probably help you find your daughter a lot faster, so whatever your issue with my team member is needs to be cast aside so we can bring her home."

For a second it looked as if Eponine was going to throttle Grissom with her bare hands, so Catherine stepped in. "Please…I'm a mom. I know how you feel. My daughter was kidnapped not too long ago. I know how frightened you are. We can help, and while I don't know why Nick is not here, I assume he's probably out now looking for her. I've known him for eight years. He's not one to give up."

The woman's eyes softened and finally she nodded. "Fine. I'd like your help then."

Suddenly an older man came up to them. "Nick and Lee over to find McVeigh at the bar, not too long ago."

"What?!" Eponine gasped in shocked.

"What do you mean he's gone to find McVeigh?" Grissom asked. "And why does Nick think that McVeigh had something to do with this?"

The older man said, "Nick was convinced that McVeigh was involved. He found Stephanie's beret at his trailer and took off with Lee to Ruby's."

"Where's Ruby's?" Warrick demanded.

"Oh my God!" Eponine cried. "Lee is going to kill McVeigh if he's gone over there!"

"He's not the only one," Warrick told her.

"Nick's been watching McVeigh for weeks. He came here saying he knew the guy was up to no good," she told Warrick, then lowered her voice and continued. "McVeigh did something pretty awful to Nick and now...oh God…" She looked at them, pleadingly, "We can take care of Stephanie here, but..."

"McVeigh might have the answer," Grissom answered, impressed with the woman's ability to stay focused. "And if something happens…"

"We'll never find Stephanie!" Eponine turned and looked around. "I'm going to go get my brother."

"No, you need to stay here," Warrick told her.

While Mr. Riley gave the coordinates of the bar's location to the crew, Greg turned to Catherine and Grissom. "Let me stay here and help out. You guys go find Nick and stop him before he does something stupid."

Catherine was torn, but Grissom had the final say. "Good idea, Greg. Catherine and Warrick, come with me."

The blonde criminalist pleaded to stay, but Grissom held fast. "You're the only one who can reach Nick before he does something really stupid. I will probably say the wrong thing, Catherine, and right now we can't take risks. We're not dealing with someone who's fully on board. The guy is in hiding. We need to treat him as a potential criminal!"

xxXXxx

Nick drove with Lee, explaining to him in an abbreviated manner what led him to the trailer park. He felt a pulse in his temple thumping and wished for a second he'd brought his rifle. Oh well, his fists would suffice, and he did have his Glock on him. He'd use it if he had to.

"So, you're here to seek revenge on this guy who attacked you, and somehow my sister and my niece got tangled up in it," Lee said with a scornful laugh. "I'd like to fucking deck you right now for this. Why didn't you just stay away?"

"I don't know," Nick answered.

"I mean, hey man, I'd feel the same way as you. If some guy did that to me, I'd want to kill him. Is that what you intended?" Lee looked at him.

Nick didn't answer him and was grateful that Ruby's bright fluorescent lights came up before them. He tore into the parking lot, relieved to see McVeigh's SUV there. "He's here!" Nick said to Lee as they jumped out of the car.

The two men ran into the bar, the bells clanging as they went through the door. Patrons looked up and were startled to see Nick, who'd they met over the weeks, walk in with a face of rage. It was a sheer contrast from the quiet, friendly, man who'd played darts and cards with the locals. His eyes scanned the room for a minute before settling on McVeigh who sat solo with a few beers, slouched back on the chair feet on the table, taping his fingers along with the jukebox.

All eyes were on Nick and the room grew silent as they took in his determined stand.

"If I didn't know better," he heard one of them say, "I'd think he was Sweeney Todd."

"He kind of looks like Johnny Depp," another said.

"Oh God no, Johnny's a god."

Nick felt like Sweeney Todd as he saw McVeigh sitting there casually drinking a beer. A murderous rage was only being held back by a thread as he strolled over with a maniacal smile, motioning for Lee to walk behind him. The blonde man nodded and did so. Pulling up a chair with the back of the seat facing McVeigh, Nick straddled the chair with an incensed look that surprised the parolee. "Hello, McVeigh." The cold and decisive tone in his voice even surprised Nick. He'd heard that tone used by murderers and serial killers - the kind of tone that no longer held humanity in any regard.

"Well, well, well." McVeigh smiled amusingly. "It's the judge's boy!"

"I have a name. Nick Stokes, remember? We went to high school together." He smiled evilly, his left eye twitching, his hands aching to be around McVeigh's throat right now, draining the life out of him. He felt his jaw clench, and then suddenly he felt something in his brain pull tighter as insanity and sanity seemed to tug on his moral.

Indeed, he was feeling like a murderous barber. His pocket knife beckoned him saying, "_Hey, Nicky, since you didn't use me on your wrists, why don't you use me on the man's jugular."_

"_Shut up!" he silently told it. "Maybe later!"_

"I know your name, cowboy. I remember you…all of you, in fact." He sipped his beer while winking at Nick who simply stared at him, unprovoked.

"Where's Stephanie Sargent?" Nick asked.

"Who?" By the look in his eyes it was obvious that McVeigh very well knew who she was, but denial was not just a river in Egypt.

"The little girl with the beret."

"Oh her!" McVeigh shrugged. "I don't know. She was dancing around my trailer earlier."

"Now why would she be there when her friend that she was visiting is on the other side of the park?" Nick cocked his head to one side, scrutinizing in the same stern tone he used on criminals. Then he gripped the back of the chair and leaned over. "You can save yourself now if you just tell me where she is, because one way or another I'm going to get the information out of you."

Nick's eyes were ablaze, his face contorted in a venomous pose like a cobra ready to strike. He overheard one of the patrons say, "This is scary."

"He's certainly looking like Sweeney Todd at the moment."

An evil smile tugged on his lips, his eyes in slits. Yes indeed, Nicky my boy, the Texan told himself…you will have vengeance.

"Look, cowboy, I don't know what you're talkin about, but I'm out of here." McVeigh started to stand up and suddenly found himself gripped from behind by Lee Sargent, a tall muscular man with muscles that reminded Nick of better times when he was fit like that.

Johnny Cash came on singing about God cutting you down.

_You can run on for a long time_

_Sooner or later God's gonna cut you down_

Despite his wasted frame, ravaged by Hepatitis B, he had a lot of fight in him, for rage did that. It sent the adrenaline going at top speed, and right now it was driving Nick who abruptly stood up and kicked the chair which ricocheted across the room, crashing into a table. He grabbed McVeigh's collar and with Lee's help lifted him to his feet.

"What the fuck!!" McVeigh's eyes were wide with surprise and his breath...the smell..that familiar smell stirred unwanted memories in the Texan.

_He could smell that smell as they rained kisses on his tear-streaked cheek._

"You're gonna tell me where Stephanie is McVeigh!" Nick growled, wolf-like, his teeth bared. He was breathing heavily, the adrenaline pumping red in his brain.

If he was dog, he'd be considered rabid. He'd be labeled a 'dangerous dog' by the local animal control and sent to the death chamber.

If he was a wolf, he'd be battling the alpha male for dominance.

If he was a cat, he'd be a lion ready to defend his pride from a scraggly outsider.

McVeigh struggled against the vise grip of Lee Sargent, a man who, if he wanted to, could immediately become a member of the Ultimate Fighting Club. His blonde hair was cropped, revealing a large half circle scar from shrapnel wounds, his muscle rippled. He, too, wore a look of steadfast determination, ready to beat the information out of McVeigh.

Surprisingly, McVeigh was undeterred and yelled, "Fuck you, cowboy! Oh wait…I did that a few months ago!"

Nick could hear a collective sucking in of breath from the entire bar, and now that McVeigh had announced his shame to a bunch of strangers the rage took over. What little common sense was there made a fast retreat and the primal part of him took control of the panel.

THUD!! Blood spurted from McVeigh's mouth as Nick's fist went straight into it. He was recovering from that assault when another hit him in the stomach. Sweat was trickling down the sides of Nick's face as he stood there in a boxer stance, fists donned and ready to strike.

"Well! Are you going to tell me where she is?!" Nick yelled. "Or do you want some more?!" Oh, he hoped for more.

McVeigh smiled and sang, "Save a horse, ride a cowboy!!"

SNAP!

Nick grabbed McVeigh by his scraggly long hair and rammed his head into a table. A loud crack could be heard across the room and blood sprayed from a wound. After three slams, Lee leaned over and said to McVeigh, whose head wound was gushing blood, "I'll let him kill you if you don't tell me where my niece is!"

"Kiss my ass, soldier boy!!" McVeigh snarled, undeterred as Nick continued to pound the man's head into the table over and over again, small amounts of blood flying out from his mouth.

Nick stopped and roared, "Where is she?!"

McVeigh smiled and Nick returned with a kick to the gonads. McVeigh cried out in pain, and Nick leaned over and whispered, "How's that for you, cowboy?" McVeigh spit blood and phlegm straight into Nick's face, and Lee held him up as the Texan, wiping the crap off his face, tore into him with a growl.

McVeigh's face was a punching bag; each smash to the table brought more blood which sprayed onto the wall. Nick heard McVeigh moan, but was undeterred. After all, no matter how much he had cried while McVeigh ravaged him, he didn't stop. No matter how much Nick had pleaded through the cloth for them to please stop hurting him, they never stopped. So why should he stop?

Lee called to him, "Nick, I think he's had enough."

"But I haven't!" He didn't recognize his own voice anymore.

"No man, you're gonna kill him."

"I don't fucking care!!" Nick was about to grab McVeigh for one more round when he heard a familiar voice ringing through the red haze.

"Nick!!"

Gasping, Nick whipped around and saw Grissom, Catherine, and Warrick standing there, looking at him in absolute horror.

Lee held up McVeigh who was losing consciousness, blood continuing to trickle from his mouth and the gash in his head.

Nick looked at his hands and saw what he'd done as if in a dreamlike trance. Blood. It coated his knuckles, his fingers, and his college ring. He looked at McVeigh's face, covered in blood, and then felt something called pity poke its head through the haze of rage.

Then he saw their faces, and the primal world he'd been in slowly retreated back into the human world.

Grissom stood there shocked, his eyes wide with fear, while Catherine looked pleadingly at him with a look that broke his heart. Warrick looked at him with anger and fear combined and walked over to him, grabbed him, and dragged him out of the bar as a uniformed officer tended to the injured McVeigh. Lee Sargent had brought him down to the floor and surprisingly began to apply first aid by yelling for an ice bag.

The Vegas team, meanwhile, had taken their raging colleague outside to calm him before anymore damage could be done.

"What the hell are you all doing here?!" Nick shouted, trying to free himself from Warrick's grip. Warrick pushed him up against the truck, his head slamming against it and stars dancing before his eyes.

Words were spoken to him. They were calm, but he was still in delirium with anger. A voice inside Nick began to scream as they confronted him with what had led them here. It was denial saying he was not yet ready to deal with what led him to the trailer park.

They knew. NO!!

They found his clothes. OH FUCK NO!!

They found the rag. JESUS NO!!

They found the cord. NO!!

Nick grabbed the form, read it, and looked up. Why were they showing this to him?

Then he heard the words. They knew. They knew everything. They knew his secret.

No matter how much he clamped his hands over his ears; no matter how much he screamed at them not to say it...DON'T FUCKING SAY IT! They knew. It was out in the open, and they all knew.

His team knew.

His boss knew.

His friends knew.

The world knew.

Nick's world was spinning out of control and he wanted to get the hell off, but he couldn't. He shoved the form away because in no way could he deal with it. No. He couldn't imagine going before the courts and having to go through the whole experience again, the judge listening giddily as he recalled how his pants had been forced down to his knees, and how they…caused...him… his body to react in ways that it shouldn't have reacted.

When animals are trapped they fight, but he had none of that left. So flight was the next option, but they wouldn't let him leave.

_I want to fucking run, just run! Please let me go...I can't deal with this anymore...I just fucking can't._

Nick's knees were rubbery and his stomach coiled and churned. He tried to run back to the bar, but he was held back by Warrick. He tried to convince them to let him find Stephanie, but they said no - it was not his case.

His world spun in circles, around and around, as he tried to get to his truck and run so far that no one on this earth would ever fucking see him again. He'd find a nice spot. Maybe he'd go to Canada…to Algonquin Park and listen to the wolves howl and then, just then he'd eat his gun and be done with it and then his body would be eaten by the wolves. They'd roll in his blood, letting the other wolves know that it was their meal and not anyone else's.

Trying not to drown himself in useless thoughts, he looked at his colleagues again and pleaded with them to please let him help, and when they wouldn't he simply broke down and sobbed. Catherine walked over and held him tight like she'd held her own daughter through many a night after Eddie died.

"I don't know what to fucking do!" he sobbed.

"_We doin' the judge's boy!"_

"_Squeal for me piggy!"_

She shushed him and told him it would be okay. This was so unlike the man who had told her a dark secret several years ago, but time and trauma had taken its toll. The vileness of McVeigh's attack had ripped his soul to pieces, and she didn't know whether or not the pieces could be put back together.

She looked at Grissom who was at a total loss at this moment, and it took all she had to not dig a Prada into his ankle as the man stood bewildered. Why in God's name couldn't he ever be there for Nick as he had been for her, Sara, and Warrick. Why?

Calmness seemed to take hold of him, and once more Nick asked to help and Grissom shook his head no. He looked at them pleadingly. Browns and blues faced him with sympathy, empathy, and horror. They were just as traumatized as he was.

Strangely enough, Nick felt somewhat relieved that they knew because it meant he didn't have to pretend anymore. He'd have never made a good actor. He was too open and honest about about ho he was feeling. The 'everything is okay' facade was cracking, soon shattering.

And then h e heard the sheriff tell him he was going to be arrested for his assault on McVeigh and he took a deep breath and allowed them to handcuff him and usher him to the vehicle. Nick didn't care what happened, because as far as he was concerned his life was pretty much over now. He was alone. And that was that.

This is the way Nick Stokes ends; not with a bang, but with a whimper.

_**A/N: Please don't despair. Not all is lost for Nick, I promise. **_

_**I do have a merciful side to me. I'll torture him a bit more and let up. I promise. I'd never leave my boy to suffer-too much. Tee heheheheh.**_


	13. Chapter 13

**IRREVERSIBLE**

**CHAPTER 13**

_Just because I'm hurting  
Doesn't mean I'm hurt  
Doesn't mean I didn't get what I deserve  
No better and no worse_

_Lost-ColdPlay_

**Thanks so much for your awesome reviews. **

**Check out Alex's Grave Danger story-it's cool!**

**Thanks Smokey again-you are the best!!**

**Check out ColdPlay's Viva La Vida Or Death And All His Friends-very good album.**

As the sheriff drove off, the team assembled together. There had to be a way to help Nick and to find this little girl.

Watching the vehicle drive away with her friend in it, Catherine turned to Grissom in an absolute frenzy, which was unlike her, but she was exhausted and drained. "What the hell are we going to do, Gil?"

"I don't know yet, Catherine," Grissom answered sharply, as even he was at a loss as to how to help Nick.

Sighing heavily with his hands on his hips, Warrick said, "I'll go back to the trailer park and help the police find the little girl."

Nodding, Grissom agreed. "I think that Catherine and I should go see Nick and find out any information he might know as to why he thinks McVeigh did it."

The sound of moans came from the bar's doorway. The team turned and watched as McVeigh was wheeled out in a stretcher out of the bar, his face battered and bruised. Catherine stormed over before Grissom could stop her and told the EMTs to halt.

"Ma'am," a young Asian male said, "we gotta get him to the ER."

"Just hold up!" she said as she walked beside McVeigh, her face twisted into a rage, her blue eyes filled with anger.

He looked up at her and smiled. "You an angel taking me to Heaven?"

"I know what you did to Nick. I have the proof," Catherine told him in a low, guttural voice that came from the pit of her stomach. "And I know in some way you are involved with that little girl's disappearance."

"My buddy and I were in the prison chapel that day. He can vouch for our whereabouts."

"Your buddy is dead." Grissom's voice came up from behind Catherine. "And he left a letter for Nick confessing what you and he did to him that day in the library and what you did to Conrad Noir, so you might as well as cough up the whereabouts of Stephanie Sargent, because either way you're going back to prison."

Through the bloodied, gauzed face Grissom could see that McVeigh was rattled by the news of Smith's death. His eyes filled with tears, but before he could say any more the EMT said, "We gotta get him to the ER or our jobs are on the line. Can you finish this there?"

Grissom looked at the young man and nodded. "We'll be over in a bit."

McVeigh's sobs could be heard inside the vehicle as the doors closed.

"Mr. Grissom," Sheriff MacKay called out, "I just got off the phone with Judge Butler. He's agreed to let Nick go on the condition that he get back out there and help with the search. The brother's been released already. I told you the charges wouldn't stick."

Grissom stared at him in shock and relief. Maybe there was a God looking out for them. "I've never heard of this kind of..." He was at a loss for words.

"We've been watching McVeigh for weeks. He's been giving everyone the creeps, and well…the judge said if he continued with the charges the community would be after him. So he's out there now with Eponine, and well…this was her idea. She insisted that neither of them be charged and he agreed. But don't let this get to anybody at the top. If they catch wind of this…"

Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes having friends in high places helped. "God, no. Your secret is safe with us."

"I appreciate that. I like the guy a lot. I don't know what his beef with McVeigh was…heard some stuff, but I don't believe it. McVeigh's a scumbag."

The team said nothing as it was better to leave it at that. Better McVeigh be known as a liar than Nick be known as a sexual assault victim.

Sighing with relief that Nick's career was preserved - for now, as Maddie Klein was not too happy to hear about Nick's vigilantism - Grissom turned and looked at Catherine. "I'm going to go to the hospital and see if I can get more info out of McVeigh. Now don't look at me like that. I think given what is going on here, Cat, that you're the best person to deal with Nick right now."

Catherine stared hard at him and he continued, "Please, I don't want to say the wrong thing to him again."

Her stance softened. "You're right."

"But don't take too long. You need to get him back out there and find that little girl," Grissom told her firmly. There was no time for emotions; no matter what the circumstances.

xxXXxx

Nick sat on a cold bench in the jail cell with nothing but a toilet and a Bible to keep him company. He picked up the book and immediately it flipped to Job. He tossed the book aside, laughing at the irony. If he could get out of this jail cell, he'd shave his head - he was good at that - and run out to the desert, tear his clothes off, and scream at God to curse the day he was born. But with his luck, someone from LVPD would be flying over and immediately charge him with public lewdness, even if the only thing in the desert that would see him would be a coyote, which would probably bite his dick off. If Nick didn't have bad luck, he'd have no luck. He'd rather have no luck.

The high was gone and now he had crashed. Eponine blamed him, and rightly so, for Stephanie's disappearance. It was his fault. If he hadn't come to the park seeking vengeance on McVeigh, nothing would have happened. Revenge had a heavy price, and now Nick had to deal with its consequences. He'd hurt numerous people on his journey to find McVeigh. His career was shot to hell because an arrest meant immediate dismissal. He couldn't imagine how hurt his parents would be.

And now the one bright spot in his life had kicked him to the curb. Oh, but he understood why Eponine was angry at him…why she hated him. He should have told her from the start. Why he didn't, he couldn't understand. The damage was irreversible.

He heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Catherine standing behind the bars while the sheriff unlocked the door. "You're free to go, Nick. The charges are dropped. Heck, they weren't even recorded."

Nick stared in shock at the older man who smiled. "You have Eponine to thank for this."

The Texan swallowed hard, nodded, and stepped out, looking at Catherine with a mixture of relief and fear of her reaction. Immediately Catherine went over and gathered him into her arms. "Nick, why didn't you come and tell me about this sooner? I would have helped you. You know I would have. Don't you trust me?"

Nick drew away and answered in a thick voice, "It wasn't about trust. It was about..." His eyes filled with tears as for the life of him he couldn't figure out what to say.

"I know," she said. "I understand fully."

"How did you find out about all this?" he asked.

"It's a long story, but let's get back and find that little girl," she said, tears streaming from her eyes.

They drove out in silence as Catherine pondered her next move. "What's your connection with Eponine?"

"We were involved," he explained and left it at that, not ready to talk about it. Nick ran a hand over his mouth. "Any word on Stephanie?

"No. Grissom and Warrick have gone back to help. Greg's there already," Catherine said. There was underlying tension as Catherine pondered about what to say and how to say it.

"Go ahead and ask. You're wondering why I'm here?" Nick asked while staring out the window.

Catherine looked quickly at him and confirmed, "Yeah. What are you doing here?"

"I don't know. I was out of it when I came here." He sighed. "I'm not sure if I'm all there yet."

"I know, Nick," she assured him.

"How did you guys find out?"

"It started with a phone call from the prison. Smith started bragging."

"Oh fuck. How many people know?!" Nick's voice went high pitched.

"Nick, that's not important, okay? Let's focus on how we can help Stephanie."

Nick leaned his head against the windowpane and bit his bottom lip, prompting Catherine to say, "I know, Nick, more than anyone on the team, how deeply this has affected you, and no matter what comes out of this, I'm here for you. We're here for you. Warrick was right. Nothing has changed as far as we're concerned. You're still the same person as you were before."

"But I'm not." He looked at her. "I'm not the same."

"I guess that's the wrong wording here. We all want justice for you, Nick. Okay?" Catherine gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as she struggled for the correct word usage.

"You know what it's like for people who have to go through the justice system when this happens to them. How many women have been scared to do it because they feel like they're being attacked by the system all over again? So how do you think I'm going to fucking feel? And I work for the damn system, Catherine."

Sighing, Catherine reluctantly agreed with him. "I agree 100 per cent, but there's also protection for your identity."

"I'm sure people are going to find out, Catherine. If Smith has been going around telling the guards and inmates, then before you know it the rumor mill will be at full speed touting 'Nick Stokes gets it up the ass at High Desert'!"

Catherine gritted her teeth hearing the Texan and the frank way he described his attack.

He continued, "You know how homophobic this profession is, don't you, Cat? I mean, why do you think I'd get so damn pissed off when Greg was doing his little flirt bit with me? It had nothing to do with being gay or me being a homophobe; it's the reaction from the other guys. How many gay guys are running the show over at LVPD?"

"I know, Nick," she said. "I understand. So what if it does get out, Nick, then what do you have to lose? If it's going to get out there, then at least have the final say on the matter by having McVeigh charged. Be known as the one who brought his assailant to justice."

"Oh, and be Saint Nick, the Patron Saint of Raped Men?" he said sarcastically. "I fucking don't think so."

"What do you have to lose, Nick?" Catherine asked. "What, you have nothing to lose? At least file a lawsuit against the prison. Something good has to come out of this. I can't stand the idea that this has happened to you. It pisses me off. Do something. Promise me you will do something so that McVeigh won't get away with it."

"And Smith?"

"He's dead, Nick." Nick was clearly stunned by the news as Catherine continued, "He committed suicide. We have a letter from him. He wrote an apology to you, and he confessed to the murder of Conrad Noir and attacking you."

The world spun for Nick as he contemplated the news and then he brightened. "I think I know where she is!"

"Stephanie?!"

"Yeah, McVeigh works for a junkyard just four miles down the road from here."

Catherine's eyes widened and she declared, "I'm on my way. You stay here."

"No! I'm going to find her," Nick told her in a voice that said she dare not challenge him. But she was a tough girl and proceeded to do so.

"You can't use this as a way to redeem yourself to her mom, Nick," Catherine said.

"It's not about that. I know things about Stephanie. If the police find her, she won't come out."

"Well, we have to call them."

"Fine. Let me go in there and look for her. She won't come out for anyone else. That's why Eponine wants me to help, because Stephanie doesn't trust very many people, but she trusts me," Nick explained, trying to convince Catherine this was not a "white knight" moment. This was for all intents and purposes a practical decision.

"I don't know, Nick. Are you sure?" Catherine could hear the desperation in her voice and knew that Nick was probably right. The kid was probably traumatized, and a police presence would make it worse.

"I just know her, okay? She's a quirky kid. Please let me out of here. I know how to find her. If she sees police, she'll flee. It's a long story. I know how to do it."

"_Stephanie's dad was a cop," Eponine told him one evening as they sat on the tree stump. "He was a drunk and a dirty cop. One night, a few of his friends popped by while Stephanie was asleep. She woke up to find them beating the living shit of him. Ever since then, cops scare her. I blame her dad for her ADHD. Trauma causes ADHD."_

_Nick shook his head. "No, it's a genetic thing, Eponine. It's just a quirk in our brains."_

"_Well, she's terrified of cops. Her godfather has to change out of his uniform before he can visit her._

_XxXXXxx_

Grissom smelled his shirt and realized that he needed to catch up on some laundry. He felt dank and dirty in the hospital hallway surrounded by sterility - a sharp contrast. He opened Nick's file titled "John Doe" and looked at the form Sara had told him about. He shut the file. It would be useless if Nick refused to press charges. The entomologist couldn't blame the guy. Hell, he wouldn't file charges if it had happened to him.

A quick look at McVeigh pretty much explained why the Texan didn't fight back…or couldn't fight back. McVeigh was almost 6 and a half feet tall and built like a Teamster trucker. He was all girth and all muscle, with no neck, for that matter. The guy was built like a Kodiak bear. No, Nick didn't have a chance. Cap that with a gun being pressed up against his head and no, there was nothing he could have done to stop them. Doc Robbins was right. Nick was lucky to be alive, especially given that the initial plan was to kill him after it was done. Only a hair's breadth of remorse from McVeigh's friend saved the CSI's life.

A tall, bald man with piercing blue eyes, dressed in green scrubs and a white physician's coat walked toward him. "Dr. Grissom? I'm Doctor Longridge, the ER physician treating McVeigh. I understand you wish to speak to him."

"Yes. I'm from the Las Vegas crime lab. I need to find out some information about Stephanie Sargent."

"He's conscious, so you can speak to him for a few minutes," Dr. Longridge said. "He sustained a concussion, but he'll be fine." The doctor gave the appearance that he really didn't care one way or another what happened to his patient as he was simply fulfilling his Hippocratic Oath. Information traveled fast in this town. McVeigh was scum that wasn't worth any kind of compassion

"Thank you."

Grissom walked toward the room and could hear McVeigh mumbling behind the curtain. The bugman pulled the curtain back and saw an officer standing there beside him. McVeigh lay handcuffed to the bed.

"You!" McVeigh's face was full of hatred, a bandage spread across his billboard of a forehead. "What the fuck do you want?"

"I want to know where the little girl is," Grissom charged.

"I didn't rape her. Okay? I'm not into kids." He smiled insidiously.

Grissom smirked, cocked an eyebrow, and remarked, "Oh, I know that for sure." Then he glanced at the officer and asked, "Can I just have a minute with him? I can assure you he's not going anywhere."

"I'll stand off by the opening of the curtain," the older, black, muscle bound man with a goatee said, his eyes glaring daggers. "You took one of my friend's kids. You know that, right? You're not getting away with this." Then he was gone.

The entomologist stood over him. "So where is Stephanie?"

"She's not dead. I can tell you that. I took her somewhere that I know real well." McVeigh smiled and then asked Grissom, "You're a friend of Nick Stokes, aren't you?"

"We work together."

"Yeah, he was real sweet that day. He really enjoyed himself."

"I don't know about that, McVeigh. I think the only person who enjoyed himself was you. I mean, you got revenge on Judge Bill Stokes by irreversibly messing up his son."

"Yeah, he had it coming," McVeigh said with a justified look.

"Bill Stokes or Nick Stokes?" Grissom queried.

McVeigh thought about it and said, "Both. Smug do-gooders, they are. They have no idea what it's like being me. See, I was a victim of crime myself, and therefore it was only natural to continue on down the food chain. It was the only way I could not let those who hurt me win."

"No, you're wrong. " Grissom shook his head and countered, "I think Nick of all people knows what it's like to be a victim of crime. The only difference between you and him is that he turned those events into motivators to help others. You, on the other hand, let those who attack you win, because you stayed a victim while Nick became a survivor."

McVeigh sneered at him and then grew silent. Judging by the angry, defiant look the criminal wore, Grissom knew there was little more he could do to get information out of him about Stephanie's whereabouts. He phoned Catherine and relayed the news.

"We're on our way to the junkyard where McVeigh works. Nick thinks that's where she is," she told him.

"I'll get the sheriff over there to meet you."

"Tell them to stay out of the yard until we've given the all clear. Stephanie's terrified of cops."

xxXXxx

Junkyards look spooky in the dark, especially when they are surrounded by guard dogs. Nick felt a wave of sympathy for the animals. They looked like they could use a good meal and a long bath. He made a mental note to talk to the local humane society about them.

A cacophony of barking greeted the two criminalists as they pulled over and rang the 24 hour number that was listed on the billboard over the 20 foot tall fence. The owner came out to meet them. She was a woman in her 50s who looked like she'd seen many a bad day. She had scraggly black hair cut into a bob and a bone-thin body.

"Thanks for agreeing to meet us here," Catherine told the woman who was dressed in black leather pants and a pink tank top, a cigarette dangling from her mouth. She reminded Nick of his wacky neighbour, Mrs. Matthews, the crazy cat lady.

Catherine handed Nick a huge flashlight, taking one of her own, and they agreed to split up and keep their cell phones on to contact each other. Nick took a deep breath and walked through rows and rows of old cars headed for car heaven. Most had had parts removed and sold off to dealerships, and most were old-time American gas guzzlers.

A rat scurried by, its beady eyes glaring at Nick before scurrying under a fleet of cars. He followed another one under a familiar old white Buick whose windows had long since been removed. An old pair of fuzzy dice hung from the mirror. He heard sobs coming from the old car. The sobs were followed by a familiar haunting tune. Instantly, the Texan recognized it, and he also recognized that at this moment Stephanie was terrified. Her little mind was going off in sporadic directions, clinging to the safety of a song about better places, such as castles in clouds, and safe people like a lady dressed in white.

Holding his arm, Nick scanned the flashlight around, following the direction of the voice. As he shone it on the old white Buick, the voice stopped. Nick walked closer and called to her, "Stephanie, it's Nick."

Silence.

"Hey, do you want to come out and play soccer or something? You sure kicked my butt the last time."

Silence. A rat scurried by his feet, its beady eyes scowling at him before dashing off into another car.

"Stephanie, it's me Nick! Please, honey, I know you're here. Please say something. Let me know you're here."

Silence.

Nick inhaled deeply and said, "You know, sweetie, I know what's like to be so scared out of your mind that you can barely breathe. I bet that's how you're feeling now, right?"

A small sob.

"You know, I've been scared many times, and sometimes I sing too. I sang a song over and over waiting for someone to come rescue me a long time ago. You wanna try that? Can you sing for me, sweetie?"

No answer.

"Stephanie!" Nick called, fighting the urge to run to the car and simply pull her out. But that would traumatize her more. Who knew what McVeigh had said to her about him? Who knew what he had done to her? If that man was capable of raping someone like him, a fully grown adult male, then God knows what he'd do to a nine-year-old girl.

Still no answer.

"Stephanie, please sing for me. I love to hear you sing, honey. Remember? You're the next Miley Cyrus."

Silence.

"Stephanie, please sing for me. Just a few lines from that song you sang to everyone the other day when you were in Les Miserables," Nick said, trying to pronounce it as best he could.

A tiny sob, then "There is a castle on a cloud, I like to go there in my sleep, aren't any floors for me to sweep, not in my castle on a cloud."

He raced over and shone the light in on Stephanie's tear-stained face from the back leather seat. Her long hair was streaked with grime, and her hands were bound with yellow rope behind her back. She was dressed in her pink Hannah Montana T-shirt, now ruined with grease, pink Capri pants, and pink Crocs. Her long curly hair was streaked with dirt. She sat crossed-legged and her eyes looked him pleadingl as she sang on and on while Nick opened the door and reached inside, but as he tried to grab her she screamed, "NO!! Don't touch me!!"

"Why?" he asked.

"He told me you were a bad man and that you were going to kill my mother and that's why he took me here." Stephanie slid on her bum backwards out of Nick's reach.

Nick said, "Who?"

"That guy that's been watching us for weeks. You called him McVeigh!"

"Honey, he's lying," Nick choked out. "I'm not a bad man. I'm a good guy. I would never hurt your mom or you."

"He told me you did some bad things to people and ruined their lives and now you were going to ruin my mom's life."

"Sweetie, he's lying. He's the bad guy. He put you here!" Nick tried to convince her. "Please, just trust me and let me help you out of the car."

She looked at him, and he pulled out her beret from his jeans pocket. He had picked it up as Eponine went into the trailer with Mrs. Riley and had kept it safe and sound for when Stephanie was located. He knew deep down she would be. McVeigh didn't want to kill her. He just wanted to make trouble for him.

He showed the beret to Stephanie, and her angry, fear-filled eyes soon filled with sorrow. The tough kid demeanor crumpled, and she started to move forward towards Nick who pulled her out of the car shouting to Catherine. As soon as he untied her, she threw her arms around him crying, "I want my mom! I want her now!"

"You're going to her right now." Nick picked her up and walked towards the opening of the gate. He ran into Catherine as she came around the corner. She was relieved at the sight.

"Oh my god! Is she okay?" Catherine clasped a hand over her mouth in relief.

"Yeah," Nick grunted as Stephanie, despite her wiry frame, was a nice solid size. "Let's get her to the hospital."

They continued to walk out, past the dogs and towards the car where Nick finally set the little girl down, but she clenched his hand and cried, "Don't leave me, Nick!"

"Not a chance!" He smiled at her, and they got inside the car.

xxXXxx

Nick paced the waiting room while Catherine went in with Stephanie to ask some questions. That was the real worry.

"If he fucking touched her..." he told Warrick who sat on the chairs. "If he laid a finger on her, I'm going to kill him, and I don't care if I go to prison for the rest of my life. I don't even care if I get the needle."

Warrick watched his buddy. He could see a vein popping out of his forehead and his knuckles were white.

Just then Eponine came rushing through the doors. She stopped momentarily and looked at Nick who swallowed and said, "She's with my supervisor."

Eponine nodded and moved on to the examination room with the sheriff behind her along with Mrs. Riley and another man whom he presumed to be the judge.

Warrick could see from the very chemistry that those two had something going on…something very tense. "What happened with you two, man?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," Nick answered in a don't-fuck-with-me voice. He turned upon hearing the familiar steps of Catherine Willows who was walking out with a smile.

"She's okay?" Nick asked.

"Nothing was done to her in that way…a lot of bullshit fed to her about you and her mother, but she's fine."

Relief washed over Nick. He heard a moan coming from behind him and turned to see the sheriff and an assistant wheeling a battered and bruised McVeigh out of the hospital in a wheelchair. He started to walk towards the curtain, but Warrick held him back. "No, man, you're not going there."

They wheeled by and McVeigh looked up and caught Nick staring at him.

Warrick took a good look at McVeigh, and it became clear how his buddy had been attacked. This man was twice the size of Nick, and with a friend in tow as well he didn't have a chance. Warrick pushed Nick away, walked over, knelt down, and warned, "If you ever, ever come near my friend again...I'll fucking kill you. You got that, McVeigh? With a machete, and I know where I'm gonna take the first slice."

McVeigh smiled.

"Warrick!" Grissom called from where he had been sitting quietly reading a National Geographic. "Enough!!"

The sheriff quickly wheeled McVeigh out of the hospital.

Nick's stomach was doing a Mexican bean dance when he heard his name being called quietly. He turned and saw Eponine standing there. She looked exhausted…drained. He motioned for her to come over by the ATM machine where they could have more privacy. The Mexican beans had now changed into spinning wheels.

"She's fine. Nothing was done to her, Nick," she explained, her voice forthright.

Eponine's expression had changed from hardened to compassionate. "I know why you didn't tell me."

"I'm sorry," was all he could muster.

"I know you are." Eponine blew a breath and shook her head. "She told the sheriff about McVeigh and how he lured her away by telling her that you were an evil man who was going to hurt me, and if she came with him they'd find her daddy and we could be together again.

Nick nodded. "Yeah, I know. So this is my fault."

"No," she said, "I was wrong to blame you. I was fucking freaked, Nick. You can't imagine how frightened I was and my mind was going to a lot of places-dark places." Her eyes filled with tears at the memory.

"I know." Nick assured her stroking her arm, "It's okay. Forget about it. She's safe, and that's all that matters." He was starting to think that maybe things would be okay between them. Hopefully. But the tension in her arm as he touched her said otherwise.

A piano crashed onto that hope as Eponine bit her lip and said, "I'm…I'm moving out of Nevada, Nick. There are too many memories here for us. We're going to pack up in a few days and go back to my parents' house in Maine. I need some time to process everything. It's not you, okay?"

Oh, he'd heard that line before. It was his line, and now his line was being used on him, and man…did it hurt like hell! Nick sucked in his breath, turned for a second and looked back at her eyes, seeing that there was nothing there but a cold, bitter look. For despite her apology, she wasn't sorry. As far as she was concerned, Nick was another guy set out to hurt her like her husband had, and in no way, shape or matter was he going to convince her otherwise. Her mind was made up.

"Yeah, I understand." He looked up and over her shoulder trying to remain stoic at this moment of betrayal. Yes, he understood why she was angry at him, but God was there anything called forgiveness in her? Obviously not. Then again, he did lie to her, and therefore the damage done to their relationship was irreversible.

"I'm glad you do," she said and leaned over to kiss him softly on the cheek. "Good luck, Nick. I'll never forget you."

He turned away and walked off saying, "Whatever." Her bitterness was contagious, and right now Nick felt more bitter than a thousand lemons squeezed into a juicer. He walked over to where his friends stood watching the drama, eyes filled with a mixture of pity and sadness. He put on a brave face and simply dogged on.

Catherine stepped forward. "Let's go back to your trailer, gather your things, and get the hell out of here tonight."

"Sounds like a plan." Nick nodded determinedly, using fake bravado to cover the fact that his heart had been smashed to bits. He had to fake it till he could make it back to a safe place where he could be alone and let his emotions go.

xxXXxx

It was nearly dawn by the time they got to the trailer. Warrick, Grissom, and Greg had already started back to city, while Catherine stayed behind to help Nick pack up his few belongings. Once they got back to his place, he'd be paid a visit by Maddie Klein. She wanted to deal with this immediately.

McVeigh was being transported back via ambulance with a uniform in attendance. He had already been charged by the local police with Stephanie's kidnapping. Once back at High Desert, Klein would be visiting him to add on First Degree Murder for Conrad Noir. Grissom told Catherine not to say anything to Nick, but Klein was eager to press sexual assault charges against McVeigh. She wanted to send a message to all prisoners that attacks on law enforcement personnel will come with serious consequences. Her plans for Nick had not been given to him, making Catherine nervous.

He hadn't brought much to the park, so packing was easy. He left next month's rent on the table for whoever came in. Lee had been released hours ago. Not a word was said to Nick as he left the jail cell other than he was taking over for his sister.

Catherine was standing by the table staring at the Wildcat Bolton. Nick came out of the bathroom and saw her. He wore a look she'd seen on Lindsay when she had caught her with a fake ID. Caught…red-handed

"You wanna explain this, Nick?" She held up the rifle in both hands, scrutinizing his reaction.

"I've got nothing to say."

Placing the rifle carefully back on the table, Catherine ran a hand through her hair and told him to pack it and pretend they'd never seen it.

"He tried to attack me the other day," Nick told her.

"Well, you shouldn't have been here," she said.

"I know." He was taking his lumps in stride.

"What stopped you from carrying out your plan?" she asked as she folded some t-shirts and placed them in a suitcase.

"She did," he said in reference to Eponine.

Catherine sighed. "You're very lucky."

"Yeah, I am," Nick said.

"McVeigh wouldn't have been worth going to jail for."

"D.A.'s still gonna charge me with something though."

"Not the assault charge, Nick. You might be looking at stalking and intent to murder, but Grissom contacted Klein and she's gonna have a talk with you about that when we get home."

"I wonder if I can cop an insanity plea," he grumbled.

"Nick, the point is, your career could be over if you're charged with anything," the blonde criminalist pointed out.

"I don't care," he mumbled as he slung the rifle over his shoulder.

Catherine closed the suitcase and looked at him pleadingly, wondering if that curt response was nothing more than a broken heart and a broken soul doing the talking. "It's all have you left."

"I still don't care," he said as he looked straight at her. She saw something in those big brown eyes that she'd never thought she'd see: defeat.

xxXXxx

They stopped at a drive thru and picked up some breakfast, then drove back to Vegas.

Nick dozed most of the way, waking up every so often with a start and looking around panic-stricken, wondering where he was. It was anxiety brought on by lack of structure and routine in addition to recent trauma. He awoke feeling as if something was squeezing his chest. His head felt like it was going to detonate and splatter all over the vehicle.

"It's just me, Nick. We're almost home," Catherine assured him, conjuring up a plan to get him to see his doctor, hoping to get him prescribed something for this anxiety. If it was not treated, it could become pathological. It was a wonder, given all he'd been through over the past eight years, that Nick had not developed a mental health disorder. He had certainly earned it.

"Do you mind if we got George?" Nick asked as he grounded himself in the here and now.

"Well, let me call Mandy and see if she's home. I'm not sure of her schedule now as the other guy working with her quit, so she might be pulling a double." Catherine dialed the number and Mandy picked up, sounding groggy. The CSI told her of their plans, and she was fine with them picking up George as long as Nick didn't come up. Catherine smiled and assured her she would do the task.

"Okay, so we'll stop by."

Nick nodded. "Thanks, Cat."

"You know, I found out what happened with you two that night, and well…I told Mandy it wasn't her and that it wasn't your fault either."

Nick threw an embarrassed glance her way and was quiet for a second. "You're a great friend. If someone had to investigate this...attack on me, Catherine…I'm glad it was you."

She leaned over and patted his hand, shaking her head somberly. "I hope you press charges, Nick. I really do."

Silence and then, "I want to, but I'm really, really…afraid…of people finding out."

Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. The desire to do so was there. That was a great start. "Let's see what Klein says," she said and prayed that the woman would at least be compassionate and not bring up Nick's past. Whatever the playboy and player Texan had done in the past did not justify what happened to him at the prison.

After picking up the kitty, they went back to his place. Warrick had taken Nick's Tahoe and was going to drop it off and then finish his journey with Grissom and Greg in the Denali. But the Tahoe wasn't the only vehicle in the driveway. Low and behold, there was Maddie Klein, sitting on Nick's stoop talking to the crazy cat lady.

"Oh fuck!" Nick groaned. "Two women I don't need to speak to."

"Well, hopefully Mrs. Matthews kept her entertained." Catherine sighed, feeling frustrated with this woman who had no sense of sensitivity about her even if it hit her between the eyes. They just had just gotten back, and Nick needed time to sleep, for fuck's sake!

D.A. Klein stood there, all five foot something of her, holding a black briefcase in one hand and her cell phone in the other, walking and yelling, "I don't care about that, Frank! Tell that damn scuzzbag laywer no fucking deal! Get it?!" She flipped off her phone and slid her sunglasses to the top of her head, waiting for Nick and Catherine to come over. Grabbing the cat carrier, Nick walked over to where she stood.

"Welcome back, Nick." Maddie smiled. Was that warmth in her eyes? Or was Nick just feeling overtired and unsure of what was what and who was who? _Just fire me, for God's sake, and get it over with._

"Gees," Mrs. Matthews called to Nick, "you look like something your cat dragged in! He looks like the kind of cat who would store dead bodies if he could get away with it."

Klien snorted and said to Nick and Catherine, "I like her. She's entertaining and very wise. You should try talking to her sometime, Nick."

"Let's go into the house," the nervous Texan told them.

As he walked away he heard Mrs. Matthews call out to him, "Where you been hiding? In the desert? You gone gypsy on us, Nick?"

Ignoring the crazy bat, Nick and Catherine led Klein into his house. Nick let the ladies through first and then closed the door behind them. Klein scanned the living arrangements and smirked, "Nice pad. The T carpet is a bit tacky, and it looks like you haven't dusted lately."

"I haven't been home," Nick remarked testily, letting George out of his carrier. The kitty immediately jumped into his waiting arms and snuggled down. Then he looked at Klein, recoiled, and hissed...his blue eyes wide, his teeth bared.

"Down, George!!" Nick comforted the kitty while secretly proud of his boy.

"Oh my, an attack cat," Klein smirked, unfazed by the hostile kitty. "Don't bother hissing at me, furbag. I've dealt with scarier creatures than you."

Scowling, Nick quickly took George (who leaned over his shoulder and hissed back at Klein as if to say, 'screw you') into his room and closed the door, wincing at the crash that followed and the sound of glass flying everywhere It sounded like his framed autographed photo of Roger Staubach had been knocked off his dresser.

"Sit down, Nick." Klein's face had grown serious.

Nick sat down on his leather couch. He was exhausted, and he still hadn't showered. Catherine sat down beside him and patted his leg reassuringly.

"Well, I've read Grissom's report. You're a hero and a villain, Mr. Stokes, so my decision is whether or not to charge you with stalking and attempted murder. I know the judge in that county isn't going to charge you with assault, but there are questions pending, like why you were there in the first place, although I do know why."

Nick felt Catherine clasp his hand.

"I've decided that I'm not going to pursue anything, Nick, on a couple of conditions: A. that you seek psychological counseling immediately and B. that you proceed to charge McVeigh with sexual assault, sexual interference, assault, forced confinement, and assault on an officer of the law. This guy has more charges pending than a third world dictator."

Nick bit his lip and said, "Those are pretty steep conditions."

"Nick, you have to do this," Klein said. "We can do it without anyone knowing, and those that do will get canned immediately if they say anything."

The Texan's eyes went dark and misty, and Klein leaned forward. "Just agree to press charges, and when you're ready we'll videotape your testimony and dub it so nobody ever has to know who you are except the judge."

Nick looked around, trying to breathe. He was panicking. His chest closed in at the thought of his secret being made public and the thought of having to tell the story and feel like he was being attacked again. He leaned over into his lap, covering his face with his hands as if he was going to puke his guts out. He couldn't do it.

"Nick, look at me. No! Stop that right now! Look at me!" Catherine ordered in a firm voice, and when he finally did she looked straight into his eyes and said "I'm staying with you in that room while you testify, okay? You're not going to go through this alone. Not anymore."

His hands shook violently. Maddie sat down on the coffee table and grabbed them. With a warm and reassuring smile she said gently, "I swear on my mother's grave, Nick, I will protect your identity. So help me God, anyone…anyone who repeats what happened to you to anyone will have to deal with me, and I'm not pretty when I'm mad. Just ask Grissom."

Nick smiled through his fear. His knuckles were still up to his face, and he looked at Catherine and then at Klein and nodded. "Let do it."

Both women smiled in relief and then Nick added, "If you dub my voice, can I pick which chipmunk I could be? I liked Alvin, he was the man!"

The trio broke into laugher as Catherine leaned over and hugged him, "I'm proud of you, Nick!"

"Thanks Catherine." He said and smiled at Maddie and said, "Thanks Maddie."

"Hey, I'm not such a bitch. I can nice, when I want to be." The DA grinned, "I even like your cat. A bit of a nutcase, but pet behaviour does reflect their owners' behaviour."

"I don't lick my balls." Nick told her feigning confusion and added, "I'm not that flexible."

"Umm…I don't think I want to picture that." Maddie said.

"Neither do I." Catherine laughed aghast at the thought.

Maddie's face turned serious again, "So I'll give you two weeks, Nick. I know you've got surgery and need some rest, but two weeks from today. I'll have everything arranged."

"I'll be there." Nick told her firmly.

_**A/N: I told you I'd let up on the guy. But there's still more to come. I should warn you, that the chapter of Nick's attack in his POV will be not be pretty. **__**In the meantime, some nice stuff for our boy.**_


	14. Chapter 14

IRREVERSIBLE

**IRREVERSIBLE**

**CHAPTER 14**

_There is no love without forgiveness; there is no forgiveness without love._

_Bryant H McGill_

_Things change... I don't think we should regard change as a disaster._

_Sir David Attenborough_

Nick lay on a cold, steel table and stared at the IV inserted into his arm. The entry point on his hand was bruised because a stupid student nurse was too busy going gaga over Warrick and had not hit the right vein, so she poked away while giggling at Warrick who didn't help. A yelp from Nick put a stop to that as an older, East Indian supervising nurse scolded the dimwitted younger nurse like hell and then proceeded to do it herself with many apologies to Nick, saying that the young thing would be suspended for two weeks without pay.

A heavyset nurse with a kind, round face and blue eyes set a long needle on a tray while the hepatologist read over a chart and discussed options for sedation and pain management with the nurse. Nick stared at the needle nervously, but the nurse petted his arm and said, "Just keep your eyes closed."

"Nick?" the doctor asked. "Someone is available to drive you home today?"

"Yep, my friend's here," Nick said as he stared up into the light, wondering if it was this particular beam people actually saw when they experienced near death experiences.

_Don't go into the light, Nick. Stay out of the light! _He smiled to himself.

"Okay," Dr. Romaro said as he walked over and stood beside him. "The nurse is going to give you a sedative to relax you and then we'll begin the procedure."

Another older nurse who reminded him of his mother inserted a needle into the IV, and within seconds Nick felt a tingling sensation in his veins as his muscles were released from the emotional hold on them and soon were placid. A blanket was placed over the lower half of his torso, and a nurse lifted his gown to expose the possible surgical area. She read his vitals to the doctor who nodded and said, "Time to start."

Nick watched as the hepatologist, Dr. Romaro, pressed on his right side and then replaced his hand with a monitoring device and looked at the screen. "Okay, here's the spot." The Texan checked out the bluish image of his liver on the screen. Then the doctor drew an X near Nick's two lower right ribs with a black felt marker

The Texan's eyes widened as he saw the needle. It was long. He closed his eyes and tried not to panic. He started his grounding routine by focusing on things that he heard.

"Nick, the nurse will be applying an antiseptic solution and then I'll be inserting a needle into you. It's going to sting, and you'll feel a lot of pressure, so first take a deep breath and then breathe all the air out. Afterwards, hold your breath, because the needle will be very close to your lungs. It is vitally important that you remain still while the needle is inserted, okay?" The olive-skinned doctor with dark brown eyes looked at him sternly.

Nick sucked a gulp of air, blew it out, held his breath, and closed his eyes. He hated needles. Pressure, then a sting. He bit his lip.

"You're doing great, Nick," Dr. Romaro said. "I'm taking more than one sample to be safe."

"You would!" Nick grunted.

"Lie still please. We're almost done here."

Then, much to Nick's relief, the pressure was gone and he felt gauze placed over the same area where the long ass needle had been. He blew a breath of relief and opened his eyes. He watched as the doctor untied his mask and ordered the nurses to have the samples sent off to Histology.

"Great job, Nick. I'll have the results back to you in a week," the doctor said as he peeled off his gloves and threw them into the trash as he walked out.

The nurse instructed the Texan to lie on his right side, and she wheeled him back to the recovery room asking if he wanted his friend to come in. He nodded drowsily and was barely conscience when he heard Warrick swagger in.

"Hey man, how'd it go?"

He opened his eyes to a set of green looking down on him with a wry grin. "I have to lie like this for about two to four hours," Nick grumbled.

"Sounds like a blast!"

"Yeah, my mom would be thrilled. She had to do this when she was pregnant with me because she had some high blood pressure thing. She never let me forget it." Nick then mimicked his mom, "I had to lie on my side and work for six weeks. You had had to be difficult, didn't you?"

"So you were a trouble maker from day one, right?"

"Thanks, man…got something else to add to my list of things I should feel guilty about. And while we're at it, why don't we add global warming to the list? You know, the polar bears are dying because the North Pole is melting," Nick droned on.

"You know, I'm gonna take that damn Planet Earth DVD away from you. You watch that again last night?"

"Yeah, I did actually. It kept my mind off eating since I wasn't allowed to 'cause of the biopsy. The doctor wasn't sure if I was going to need to be knocked out or not." Nick looked up with a wicked smile. "Did you know that one of those camera guys spent four weeks in the Himalayan Mountains just to get one shot of the Snow Leopard? One shot! He missed spending Christmas and New Years with his family! That's dedication to your craft!"

"What…you wanna go off on some mountain to take a picture of a damn cat? Why don't you stick George on top of the Monaco Hotel and take his photo?"

"Naaaah...George doesn't like gambling, and it was not a cat," Nick interjected, and then, mimicking Sir David Attenborough, continued in an English accent, "Hee ahh we have a rawre Snow Leopard!" Then he laughed hoarsely, stopping when the pain got to be too much.

Warrick snorted, "We need to get you a woman, because your life has become TV and a damn cat. You need a different kind of kitty, if you know what I'm saying."

"No thanks!" Nick nixed the idea. "I'm staying off the ship for a while."

"What…Mr. Hand keepin' you happy, Spanky?!"

"As long as George doesn't jump through the shower curtain, I'm fine with Mr. Hand," Nick said in a warning tone.

Warrick got the hint. The black man sat down and smiled brightly at a young, attractive black nurse who came in to take Nick's blood pressure. She returned the smile with one just as bright as his, unknowingly squeezing Nick's arm so hard he thought it would blow up.

"Uh…" Nick lifted his head and glared at the nurse. "That hurts!"

"Oh! Sorry." She quickly released the grip, watched the numbers, wrote them down, and took the blood pressure cuff with her.

"Knock it off, bro! We're getting too old for that shit!" Nick said, rubbing his sore arm and wondering if that nurse had it in for him. Maybe she was a friend of Pamela's.

"Who says?" Warrick scoffed as he slouched down in a plastic chair provided happily by said nurse, one arm slung over the back.

"Me." Nick closed his eyes as he felt the freezing wear off and asked that same tart of a nurse if she could give him something for the pain.

"I'll check with the doctor, Mr. Smokes."

"Stokes!" Nick growled.

Warrick laughed and then caught the glare of Nick who lately had adopted a 'fools don't suffer gladly' demeanor. He hoped like hell this wasn't the way the guy was going to be. He missed the old Nick and wasn't too sure about this new guy that must be his doppelganger. The old Nick was just starting to get back to his old self again after having been buried alive, but now it seemed that guy was a permanent grump, one fitting of a movie.

Warrick would cut the guy some slack, but he himself was struggling with what happened to his buddy. Part of him felt rage, shame, and anger, both at the perpetrator and at Nick, even though having seen McVeigh it was clear that the Texan could have done nothing to stop him short of a miracle. On Catherine's advice, he and Greg had started seeing the department psychologist to deal with their own demons and to simply learn a new way to communicate with their friend.

It had been tough for Warrick, because even though he assured Nick he was the same guy and nothing had changed, he was fool to think that. Something _had_ changed. Their friendship was different, as if there was a two-ton elephant sitting between them and neither of them wanted to mention it by saying, "Yo, bro--Dumbo sitting right there between us."

And Nick wasn't fooled. He knew their friendship was changed…the dynamic gone.

The nurse came back and inserted a medication into his IV, telling him that he could only take one prescribed by the doctor because aspirin and other kinds might increase the chance of bleeding.

"I wish the pain killers would work," he mumbled. "I hope this freakin' test comes back negative. Then I can put this fucking shit behind me once and for all."

"Why wouldn't it?" Warrick asked from behind a Sports Illustrated he'd brought for Nick, but the guy didn't look like he was in the mood for reading.

"'Cause the rest of my life has been a friggin' mess."

"Aww…bro...man...you'll get through it. You've been through shit before and you'll do it again. You're like the Energizer bunny; you keep going and going and going."

Nick chuckled, "Yeah, instead of pink, I'm yellow, and I just need a huge drum and some sunglasses and off I go."

"You're trippin' man!" Warrick laughed. "So what's your problem with me checking out a younger chick?"

"That girl could be your daughter. Who are you? Hugh Hefner?" Nick scolded, his side starting to ache from lying on it as long as he had.

"Hey man, knowing you, you'd go to Hugh's house dressed as the pope!" Warrick grumbled.

"No," Nick answered pointedly, "I wouldn't, because I'm not Catholic. So maybe an Episcopalian priest or a Baptist Minister. Or maybe a televangelist. I could be the next Jimmy Swaggart."

"Hey, you both slept with hookers," Warrick smirked and wished at that moment he could glue his lips shut knowing how uncalled for that comment about a youthful indiscretion was given the guy's sporadic state of mind. Did he have some hidden anger towards his friend that was unresolved?

Tense silence followed before Nick said quietly, "You had to bring that up?"

"I'm sorry, man. Forget it," Warrick sighed and picked up the Sports Illustrated he had bought for Nick

"No, look, I'm just growing up. Maybe you should try it sometime." Nick brought the sheet up around him. As much he loved the guy, Warrick was a bigger player then he ever was.

Both decided that before words turned into fists, best to shut the frig up and let it be.

Nick's eyelids felt heavy, and before long he was sleeping lightly, listening to Warrick turn a magazine and doctors being paged. A pillow was placed behind his back by another, older sounding nurse to give him support, and a sheet was pulled up around his shoulders

Nick opened his eyes and saw McVeigh leaning over and smiling. "How you doin', cowboy?!"

"Jesus H. Christ!!" The Texan jumped and looked around.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Warrick was over in a heartbeat. "C'mon man!"

"He was here! Fuck…he was here! McVeigh!" Nick immediately grabbed the railings of the gurney and started to pull himself up.

Warrick held him back. "No way, man! He ain't here! Nurse!!" If someone didn't come immediately, his friend would be ripping the IV out and heading straight out of the hospital in a delirium with his behind exposed, and before long he'd be taken upstairs in a straightjacket.

"I can't breathe!" Nick gasped, his eyes black with fear. "McVeigh was here! He's here!"

The doctor who had operated on him was there along with a nurse. All he could hear were voices telling him to lie back down and the doctor calling for a number of cc's of Atavin to be injected into his IV. Within seconds, the familiar tingling sensation of the medication raced through his veins, easing away the anxiety that gripped him. His breathing slowed, and before long he was completely relaxed. He stared at a pair of hands gripping the railing of the bed, knuckles white, as Warrick watched him worriedly.

"Would you like a psych consultation, Mr. Stokes?" Dr. Romaro asked as he came through the white curtains and stood beside Warrick, arms folded over his surgical green scrubs.

Nick shook his head. "I've got someone I can talk to, but thanks. Sorry about all the trouble I caused."

"That's fine, Mr. Stokes. It's okay."

The doctor looked towards Warrick who nodded, "I got him. He's fine."

"Take it easy, Mr. Stokes. I'll have the results sent over to your family doctor as soon as they're in, okay?"

"Yeah thanks," Nick mumbled.

The two men were silent and then Nick looked up at Warrick, his face crinkled in worry. "Let's not mention this to anyone."

Patting his arm, Warrick replied, "Mention what?"

Nick smiled and Warrick brought out his Ipod, "I downloaded the entire ColdPlay album on it-that new one. You wanna listen to it?"

"Thanks man!" Nick grinned as he reached up and put the ear phones and listened to the band singing about cemeteries in London.

He awoke upon hearing the nurse walk in telling him he was free to go and to take it easy for the next week.

With pain killers in tow, Warrick took Nick home, asking if he needed anything.

"Naw, I'm fine, man. See you at work," he told him as his friend set down his magazine and petted George who rubbed up against his pant leg.

"Great, now I need to buy a lint brush."

"Means he likes you, Warrick. I always said you had animal magnetism. You attract animals!"

Warrick threw his friend a grin and bid him farewell.

Nick felt completely zonked and not just because of the surgery. He was burnt out from the months of turmoil he had to endure. He flopped onto couch as George trotted over to him (Warrick had been kind enough to feed the little guy, despite complaints of how bad the cat food smelled. "No worse than your cooking!" Nick had returned).

The kitty jumped up and curled into the crook of Nick's arm as the Texan said, "I think Euro Cup is on, little man. Wanna watch some soccer? Or baseball?"

George head butted Nick on the chin and chirped in response.

"Okay, soccer it is," he said as he flipped the remote, listening to an English man doing play by play of the wonderful skills demonstrated by the forward. But the pain killers were kicking in, and soon he was drifting off to the sound of rumbling purrs.

His cell phone rang - a Green Day tune, "Walking Contradictions". He reached over to the coffee table and picked it up, lazily answering, "Hello?"

"Nick, its Eponine."

Nick sucked in his breath and said nothing for a second before he answered, "Hi."

"How are you?" she asked, her voice strained, presumably from nerves.

"I'm...good," he fumbled. "And you?"

"I'm okay."

An awkward pause ensued before she said, "Look, I want to apologize for what happened. I'm sorry I ended things the way I did."

"I'm sorry I kept McVeigh's identity from you."

"I know why you did, but I ended things without really giving you an explanation, Nick. I wasn't ready for a relationship. I'm still not ready. I'm very bitter over what happened with my ex-husband. I guess I just lumped you into the same category as him."

"I'm not like him," Nick told her, trying to be empathetic, but the empathy well had long ago run dry for him.

"I know you're not, but the way I ended things with you was pretty cruel and I'm sorry. It was a pretty crappy thing to do to a nice guy, and while it doesn't change the status, I can't go through my life knowing I just stomped all over someone like that. I know how it feels when someone does it to me."

Nick swallowed the growing lump in his throat and said, "I understand, and I forgive you, Eponine. I don't carry grudges much." Redirecting the conversation away from their relationship, he then asked, "How's Stephanie?"

"She still has nightmares, but I've got her set up with a counselor. So hopefully that will help things," Eponine responded in a tight voice indicative of someone just wanting to finish the conversation.

"Counseling has its benefits."

"Have you been getting any yourself?" she asked.

"Yeah, the department psychologist and I have been talking. It helps a bit."

Eponine sighed. "We'll be coming back to Vegas in a few weeks for McVeigh's trial."

"Yeah?" Nick stroked George's orange head and scratched his big ole ears...ears so big they were almost the height of his head. Hodges had told him a while back that the kitty was an oriental built cat…sleeker, longer, and leaner than their broad American tabby cousins. Not to mention George's tail was unusually long and seemed to twitch and move as if it were a separate living creature – a sure sign of an oriental breed.

"_Mommy or daddy must have been a Siamese, Nick," Hodges said._

"_Not sure. I'll have to ask him," Nick replied wryly. "His mom probably wouldn't remember since cats have gang banger sex."_

"_That's one way to put it." Hodges stared him strangely. _

Eponine continued, "I need some closure. I just want to make sure he never sees the outside world again."

"He won't," Nick assured her.

"Are you…will you be testifying?"

"Yeah, I'm pressing charges," Nick explained as George stretched across his chest, sticking a paw onto his nose. "But my testimony will be taped and shown privately to a judge."

"Good for you, Nick." She sounded genuinely pleased.

"I don't want to go through life knowing he got away with it. I'm at a point where I'm ready to confront it," he told her, wishing the conversation would end before emotion reared its ugly head again.

"I'm glad." Eponine's voice was tense and cold again.

Awkward silence ensued as there was so much to be said, but neither had the courage to do so because of past events. He wanted to beg and plead for her to come back, plead to give them another chance, but he knew that she wouldn't. It wasn't in her to forgive, because her perception of him was skewed and perception sometimes is stronger than reality.

"Well, I'd better get going," Nick told her.

"Yeah, me too. Take care of yourself, Nick."

"You too."

Nick flipped the phone shut and laid back on the couch trying to catch his breath. George curled up in the crook of his arm and purred loudly. Through tears, Nick looked at the kitty's adoring eyes and said, "Looks like it's just you and me again, buddy."

George licked his chin and Nick squeezed him tightly, crying softly as loneliness squeezed his heart. The kitten licked the tears off his face as his land line rang. He reached over to pick it up and answered, "Hello?"

"Hello!" A familiar, friendly voice greeted him…Sara Sidle.

"Sara!!" Nick smiled, genuinely pleased to hear an old friendly voice. "Hey!"

"Hey yourself! How are you?"

"Tired…sore…just had my liver biopsy today."

"Grissom mentioned that to me. How did that go?"

"Oh…it was a biopsy…long needle and such."

"When do you get the results back?"

"A week."

"Good, then when they're negative you'll feel better. If they're positive, then you know what you need to do. Either way it's always better to know," she said. "You sound strange, Nick. What's going on?"

He cleared his throat and then let it all out…what happened at the trailer park, his relationship with Eponine and how that all ended, beating up McVeigh and then dealing with being arrested, and now his testifying on video.

"Wow! You've been through a lot, Nick. It sucks, but you know you'll get through it."

"I know." But he didn't feel as sure as Sara sounded.

"I don't think you realize how strong you are. Remember how you went back to work after being buried alive? That took guts. Look at me. I just bailed."

"You were burnt out, Sara. It was bound to happen," he defended her.

"And as for Eponine, I think she was right in saying she wasn't ready for a relationship. If she could lump an awesome guy like you into the same category as a dirty ex, then she doesn't really know you like we do."

"If I'm so great, why'd you wind up with Grissom?" Nick teased.

"Ha ha...you were more like a brother to me," Sara said and then continued. "I uh...talked to Mandy."

"Oh God, you know too?" Nick sighed in embarrassment.

"She told the Reader's Digest version, so there wasn't a lot of detail, just the nitty gritty. I think she was just trying to figure out whether she did something wrong that night. I didn't tell her though. That's up to you. But I think you can trust her to keep it confidential. And I think hearing it would help her a lot."

"I think I will," he said. "First day I go back, I'll talk to her. I don't think it will change anything though."

"Are you saying you're interested in Mandy in that way?" Sara asked, her voice sounding shocked.

"Why's that such a surprise to you? What's wrong with Mandy?"

"Nothing's wrong with her. I think she'd be good for you. But first of all…I mean, are you ready? You...just went through something horrible."

"I'm not saying I wanna marry her. I like hanging out with her. She's fun."

"Well, that's nice to hear. I mean, Nick, your history with women is well known."

"Those women were just flings. I'm too old for that shit!"

"You want my opinion?"

"Do I have a choice?"

She snorted. "Take it slow for once. Build a bridge to her. I think she's someone who will forgive you once she has the full picture. Just from her e-mails, Nick, I can tell she really cares about you, but she's very hurt and has internalized it."

"I really fucked up a lot of things, Sara. The damage is irreversible."

"Not all of it, Nick! Not all of it. Some things can't be reversed, but they're not worth the time and effort. Eponine was just bad timing. You guys just met at a bad time in both your lives, and you hardly knew her. If she couldn't forgive you at this point, then what's to say she wouldn't forgive you for other things? Forgiveness is so important in a relationship because we're all dysfunctional and we all fuck up. Even you."

"Me? Hell no! I'm perfect!" Nick teased. "I look in the mirror every day and tell myself that 'I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!'"

"Nice Stuart Smalley wiseass!" He could hear her laughing through the phone, then she continued, "So you're gonna testify against McVeigh?"

"Yep."

"Good! I'm proud of you, Nick. That takes courage."

"Thank you for helping the team out."

"Oh God, Nick, when I read that e-mail...I tried to call you, but there was no answer. And I just wanted to tell Grissom, but I couldn't break your confidence. I wish I was there. I'd wring that bastard's neck," Sara told him, her voice strained.

"Well, I tried, but I got in trouble," Nick told her. He was already starting to feel perked up a bit. Sara always had that way with him. She saw the logic when all he could do was become emotional, which usually triggered the impulsivity.

"Thank God Maddie's going to go easy on you and not charge you. You were lucky. I remember the Cassie case three years ago, so I know you've got a lot of rage in you. You need to work on it, because it will come up again, Nick, I know it."

"I know you're right, Sara, and I promise you I'll do it. For you, I'll do it."

"Not just for me, Nick. Do it for the team, and more importantly, yourself."

"I will. I'll be…well…I'll…never be the same person again."

"No, you won't. But you're a survivor, Nick. People get all kinds of crap thrown at them and no, they're never the same. I've met rape survivors in Africa, and some of them are as traumatized today as they were years ago when it happened. Some don't bother trying to go on and instead kill themselves. And then there are the ones like you who lost a part of themselves the day of their attack, but they pick up what's left and make lives for themselves."

As Nick listened to her he felt a sudden kinship with those victims, and in his opinion some of them probably have endured worst nightmares than he did, but they still went on, and he would too.

"So when I get back, I want you to come with Grissom to visit me in San Francisco."

"Yeah right!" Nick scoffed at the suggestion. "Grissom and I on a road trip? We'll kill each other before we leave Vegas!" Nick flinched at the thought of himself and his boss alone in a car on some road. He could just hear the news broadcast talking about a double homicide and how did the two men manage to kill each other at the same time.

"Well then you can come and visit me yourself."

"Sure Grissom will trust you…or me? I might put the moves on you."

"Glad your humour is still intact!" Sara laughed and then continued, "Oh and by the way, there's a broom closet in the basement in case you and Mandy want to work on that bridge in a conjugal fashion."

"I'm not even going to ask how you know about that," Nick groaned then bid her farewell, thanking her for that much needed talk, and she told him "anytime".

Feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, he turned around and saw George batting at the TV trying to catch the soccer ball. He yawned and went over to the couch to fall back asleep.

xxXXxx

Rounding a corner, the Texan simply smiled and nodded at the greetings of 'welcome back' and 'we missed you' and so forth and headed straight to his boss's office.

"Welcome back, Nick." Grissom greeted him with a friendly smile and handed him a sheet asking, "Have you checked in with the psychologist yet?"

"Yep." Nick took the file and read it. "419 at Way-A-Way Kennels."

"Thought you'd like this one," the bugman said and returned to his file.

"Someone's dead, Grissom, there's nothing to like here," Nick retorted and walked out, feeling Grissom's quizzical eyes behind him.

At first glance, the Texan suspected it was an accident. The guy, about 22, probably slipped on some water on the tiled floor.

"Tile and water…an accident waiting to happen," he told the indignant owner, a stick thin woman in her early twenties with long black hair who told him to call the labor board if he had an issue with that.

"I just might," Nick told her. He left the print part for last. He knew in order to get the fingerprints off the squeegee that was in Adam Willingford's hand, he'd have to go see Mandy.

She wasn't at her desk when he dropped the prints off, so he left them there and went to grab some coffee. Greg was sitting in the room working on his laptop. He flashed a tense look and went back to the screen while Nick walked over and grabbed a mug and poured some coffee into it.

"You can't keep ignoring me, Greg," Nick said calmly. "At some point, we need to talk about it."

"I'm not ready yet," Greg told him stiffly. "If I say something to you, I might regret it."

"Just say it." Nick walked over and stood by the table sipping the coffee.

Clearing his throat, Greg closed the laptop and said, "I'm working on it with the psychologist and that's all I'm gonna say, because I might say something I'll regret. Can we leave it at that?"

Nick stood there feeling as if he were in some foreign country where the penalty for crime was stoning. Each word Greg threw at him hurt like hell.

"Well," he finally said, "at least you're honest."

Greg sighed heavily and got up. He picked up the laptop, slid it into the leather case, and made his way out the door. "Gotta go."

Nick finished his coffee and checked his watch; it was almost time to go home. The prints wouldn't be done for a few days anyway.

He had rounded a corner on his way to his locker when through the plexi-glass he could see her. She'd had her hair cut. She was studying the screen, looking bored and tired at the same time, her mouth scrunched up as it looked like she was close to a match.

Slowly, Nick walked over to the door of the room and counted to ten before entering, but as he got to seven, a voice said in his ear, "You know, she's not going to come to you. I know first hand she won't."

Hodges stood there with his smug demeanor, tapping a file in his hand while Nick huffed, "You know, Grissom is somewhere in this building. Maybe you'd like to grovel with him a bit."

xxXXxx

Mandy heard the familiar swagger of Nick Stokes. In the years she'd spent at the lab, she knew everyone's walk, from Grissom's shuffle to Catherine's high-heeled, determined walk. All the CSIs had their walk. Nick's was a casual swagger like a typical cowboy. As he came closer, she straightened her back, ready to tell him that she hadn't done his prints yet, but that he'd get them soon.

She knew this day would come. There wasn't anything she could do about it. He wasn't going to quit his job because of her, and she wasn't going to quit her job because of him. She'd worked too hard and put up with a lot of bullshit to just bail out now.

Mandy kept her eyes glued to the computer and felt him walk up beside her. His distinctive musky smell triggered memories, raising the hairs on her neck and sending tingles up her spine, but she fought the distractions and stayed focused.

_He'd better not try anything like calling me Mandy Dandy or singing that Barry Manilow song to me_!!" she thought, steeling herself_. 'kay…get it over with! _

She could feel Nick's tension; it was so thick she could probably peel it like a banana. "I haven't done Adam Willingford's file yet. It should be done by your next shift. Sorry, I'm backed up," she told him in a voice void of emotion.

A pause, then he mumbled, "Thanks, Mandy."

"You're welcome." Her eyes were glued to the screen, and she went back to work, praying he'd leave and…friggin crap, he didn't.

"Mandy?" Nick asked, his voice raising an octave, indicative of pure nervousness. He couldn't believe how hard it was to talk to her. Despite recognizing that he indeed was very, very fond of her, he almost wished he weren't so he wouldn't be in this mess.

"Yes?" she answered, holding her voice steady, not letting that sad voice tug at her heartstrings. She didn't dare look at his face, knowing those hound dog puppy dog eyes would have her at his mercy. _No. No. No._

_Stay strong, Webster. No matter what he says, just tell him to leave and go on his merry little Texan way._

There was another pause, and she assumed he was looking around the room to see if anyone was there, but the other tech was on his break.

"Can we t...t...talk?" he asked, sounding like a little boy, his voice so tender it tugged at the heartstrings.

"We just did, Nick," Mandy answered as coldly as she could muster with her heartstrings being pulled on tightly. Her hands shook wildly as she picked up a baggie from Warrick's DB at Striperella.

_Dammit! Her resolve was weakening._

"No, I mean can we talk later?" Nick sounded like he was almost pleading. _Nick Stokes pleading for a woman to talk to him? Pleading with her, Mandy Webster, of all the ladies in the lab? Whoa!_

She shot him down while she worked on the prints. "I'm busy, Nick."

"Please?"

Now he was begging. Her eyes widened as her mouth grew tight.

_He's begging me to talk to him!_

She put her hand on the mouse again, and then felt something warm on it - his hand. Her eyes shifted over to see for a fact that it was his. It was. That god-awful college ring he wore was shining in the light with the year 1993 on it. _How old was she in 1993? Oh yeah…17. She was into Nirvanna and Kurt Cobain. Wonder what Nick liked then? Probably Garth Brooks._

_Shut up Mandy!_

She stared at his hand, his gorgeous broad hand, her heart ready to make a leap through her chest and over to the morgue. Her heart was beginning to race like a hamster on its wheel.

_Crap, she was in love with him. Oh Mandy, how could you do this yourself? He's a major player, a playboy, and you're a geeky girl who loves to watch Star Trek and listen to Radiohead..although Nick said he liked Radiohead - a few songs._

She swallowed the mega-sized lump forming in her throat and finally answered his question, "Okay, I'm done in an hour."

"Yeah, me too," Nick said, squeezing her hand.

Damn, she longed to entwine her own fingers around his and then let fate take its course…wherever and whatever it wanted. Her internal ice wall was melting under the global warming of forgiveness taunting her.

She didn't look him in the eye as she said, "In my car in the parking lot downstairs, okay?"

"Okay," he answered nervously.

"Nick, take your hand off mine please, I'm trying to work." _Way to go Mandy!_ She could almost hear Wendy cheering her on.

He listened and was gone, much to her relief, but her hand still tingled where he had placed his. She lifted it up to her nose as proof that he had indeed touched her, and she could smell his cologne. Dammit!

She had absolutely no intention of letting him wiggle his way back into her heart. That chapter was closed, as she had started to see some guy from another lab. Nice guy...very sweet, seemed to like her a lot, but he had one problem. He wasn't Nick.

Certain things found their way through the grapevine. He'd been seeing some woman in a trailer park outside of Vegas. So what gives? That broken heart of his seemed to bounce back quickly, and she wasn't about to be his rebound. Forget it.

xxXXxx

Nick breathed a sigh of relief as he left the room. At least she was going to hear him out. Whether or not that would do anything to make the situation better was beyond his control.

He had no expectations from Mandy. He simply wanted things to go back to normal or at least to peaceful. He didn't expect everyone in the lab to like him, and he knew for a fact there were many that didn't: Detective Cavaliere for one, Ecklie for another, and of course Hodges. The feeling there was mutual.

Nick heard his cell phone ring and flipped it open. "Stokes."

"Nick, it's Doctor Zayid."

He stopped dead and leaned up against the wall outside of Grissom's office, ready for more crap to be thrown his way. Bring it on!

"I know you're busy, and I didn't want to take up more of your time, but I wanted to personally tell you that your biopsy came back negative."

Nick laughed in relief. "I'm clear?"

"Yes, Dr. Romaro said your liver is looking very good. So, at least this part of the saga is over for you and you can move on health-wise. And even better, you're immune to Hepatits B now, so no vaccines necessary."

"Thanks, man, for everything." Nick pumped his fist triumphantly.

"No problem. Look after yourself. I'd still advise you to use condoms if you're planning on engaging in sexual activity, as your final HIV test has yet to be done."

"I don't think that's going to be an issue for a long time," Nick told him wryly.

"If there are problems in that area, there are options."

"I don't think that's necessary, but if so I'll let you know."

Nick shoved his cell phone back into his pocket and was ready to head downstairs when he heard Grissom call out, "Good news?"

The Texan turned around and peeked into the bugman's office. He was reading a file and looked up as Nick walked in, shut the door, and answered, "My biopsy came back negative. So I just have one more HIV test, and hopefully that one will be clear."

Grissom smiled and leaned back in his chair, taking his glasses off. "It will be here before you know it."

"Keep calling me Job, because I'm sure one more disaster is just waiting for me," Nick bemoaned.

"God gave him his life back, but I'd say he probably had nightmares about the inflictions put on him by the devil," Grissom said.

"He wasn't raped," Nick told him and watched Grissom's face muscles tighten at the 'R' word. He asked with a sad smile, "You guys aren't going to look at me the same, are you?"

Grissom carefully weighed his answer. "Sara and I talked about it, and I think that anyone who has been abused in that fashion finds their self in a unique category because it is one of the most hideous forms of abuse. You know that the UN considers rape as a weapon of war? The attackers use it as way to exert control by destabilizing communities and sowing terror."

"The victims are primarily woman though, Grissom." Nick shrugged, getting used to his minority status.

"There are men in those communities that have experienced it; the problem is they usually don't survive it," Grissom told him pointedly. "For the women, however, they usually stay on as slaves to simply procreate the community as a form of ethnic cleansing."

"So are you trying to tell me it was better that I was raped in the U.S. than in say...Africa? Or Bosnia?" Nick asked incredulously, noticing his boss shifting again at his use of the 'R' word. Well, that's what happened to him. He was raped. No point beating around the bush. It happened, and he was starting to accept it and it was time for the team to accept it.

"No, Nick." Grissom could see he was getting testy. "I'm saying McVeigh waged a war against your father. Attacking you the way he did was his weapon of choice."

"So I'm a casualty of war?" Nick's eyes widened. The bugman did have a point.

Grissom nodded emphatically. "Unfortunately, yes. You are lucky to be alive though, and for that we're all grateful."

Nick smiled at his boss's compliment, a rare event, and then said, "Well, I gotta get going. Thanks, Grissom."

xxXXxx

Mandy sat in her car nervously listening to music she had connected from her iPod to her car stereo, but none of the choices seemed to help calm her nerves.

"Okay, Mandy," she told herself out loud, "no matter what he says, you're done with him. He lied to you and then dumped...well no...never dumped…but started seeing some person in a trailer park. So no matter what he says, you're through with him. Forever."

Suddenly, she was caught up with the lyrics of a song she never knew why she had downloaded.

_Listen to your heart_

_When he's calling for you_

"Dammit." Mandy pressed the forward button and found "Apoligize". Good choice. She smiled determinedly. Just then she heard a knock at the window. She jumped and saw him standing there, his brown eyes looking woeful, deep circles around those sad eyes. Man, did he look good today in his black leather jacket, blue t-shirt, and faded blue jeans. Aww gees! Why did Nick Stokes have to be so damn cute? He was like a lonely, little Basset Hound puppy with big ole droopy, brown eyes, just beggin' to be loved.

She unlocked the door and motioned for him to come into the car. She caught a whiff of that cologne as he took a seat and closed the door. It was an odor that triggered primal instincts, and if she wasn't careful the back seat of this car was going to see some major action.

"So what do you want to talk about, Nick?" Mandy stared out the other side of the car, trying to avoid all eye contact. Eye contact was dangerous. Eye contact led to heartstrings being played like a fiddle, and then all that would happen is that her hopes would get run over again.

"I...uh…wanted to first thank you for looking after George, and if I owe you any money just tell me." Nick was staring straight ahead and talking in a monotone voice, as if he had been rehearsing what he had to say for hours on end.

"No, that's fine. Don't worry about it." She stared out the window and saw a surprised Wendy.

Nick was trying to control his nerves and wished he had a cigarette, but he took a deep breath, steadied himself and without looking at her (because he, too, knew that looking into her eyes meant trouble, big trouble, and big fucking heartache – again - and he had had enough of it) said, "Okay, I need to tell you why things happened the way they did a few weeks ago and what has happened since. I hope that you'll at least understand and that we can work together a little more civilly, cause I ain't quitin' my job over this. I'll tell you what you need to know, and hopefully you'll understand. All I ask is that you keep what you hear me tell you in confidence, okay?"

"Fine," she answered, feeling irritated. She knew that. She knew he wasn't going anywhere. So what the hell did he want to say to her? "Just tell me and we'll go our separate ways." She was so damn proud of herself for staying strong.

However, as Nick began to tell her, his voice shaking the whole time, about what happened prior to their 'moment', the resolve was crumbling bit by bit.

Having told the story to his therapist, his doctor, Catherine, and Maddie within a week, Nick found it was getting easier to detach himself from it. Talking about Eponine proved a little tougher for him, but he held it together.

Mandy listened intently to his story, having turned off the music, and her wall of resolve started to crumble as information gave recent events a new context, a new revelation, and primarily a better understanding. Shock and horror replaced anger and betrayal. Sympathy and empathy replaced jealousy, and most importantly her feelings for him grew slightly stronger because she knew how fucking hard this must be to live let alone to tell her. The embarrassment and shame of such an event was horrifying to live with, let alone to tell someone. And then guilt for the way she behaved that night took over the self pity she had harboured and held onto like a weapon.

He wasn't the jerk. She had been the jerk. Her eyes were moistening, not out of pity for him, but out of anger towards herself. How in God's name had he managed to work, hell…solve a high profile murder…all the while living with this horror that had been inflicted on him?

Mandy never judged anyone, and she didn't care how it happened, nor did she even entertain the concept that he asked for it. It happened. It should never have happened. People should be able to stand alone in a dark alley and be safe! She had marched in "Take Back the Night" many times while in college. Her mind raced with the horror of what happened, but he didn't give her details and that was fine because she didn't need to know.

It had been almost 30 minutes since he got into the car, and the story was now told. The silence in the car as Nick waited for Mandy to respond was even more trying, and he wished like hell she'd say something.

Instead, he watched as her hand reached over and clasped his hand tightly. Gulping back sobs, he grabbed it and held on tightly, their fingers entwined as he finally looked at her and saw that her pixie face was coated in tears as she choked out, "I'm so sorry you went through that. I'm sorry I've been such a bitch to you, Nick."

"No, you weren't a bitch. You were just hurt. I just wanted to make sure you knew that nothing that night had to do with you." He sighed, feeling some relief, and then asked, "So are we on good terms again?"

She smiled warmly. "You bet, dude."

Chuckling at her tears, he lifted his other hand and leaned over to wipe them away and was touched when she grabbed it and held it against her face. Their brown eyes made a deeper connection than before he'd left. He was trying to not to cross the boundary that was rather shaky at this point. But he wouldn't, nor could he. Just because he was forgiven, didn't mean what happened was forgotten.

Then Hodges walked by, glanced over, widened his blue eyes, and made his way to the elevator.

Nick felt his heart trotting merrily like a little kitten after a ball of yarn as he opened his hand and stroked Mandy's soft cheek, taking her in and concluding that indeed, she was something special. And then the reality demon whispered evilly, _"Sorry, dude, that ship has sailed."_ He could swear she was leaning into it, and dammit he wanted to go further, but not in the car.

_Shut up, Nick, she's no longer into you. You heard that she was seeing some dude from a private lab._

_Yeah, but she's got your hand pressed against her face, and she's staring at you with love and... lust? Yeah lust! And love! _

Pressing his lips together, he reluctantly let go of her cheek and started to get out of the car when she faltered. "Can I…would you…may I treat you to breakfast, Nick?"

He looked back at her with surprise, and before the question was fully registered he answered, "I'd like that."

"My treat to welcome you back. And I'll drop you off back here to get your car right after." She looked at him nervously, wondering what the answer would be.

He was quiet for a minute and then said, "You know, it's a really nice day out there, and I kind of like hanging out at the lake. Do you want to go afterwards and then catch a movie later? I haven't been keeping up with them lately." He watched her face brighten in surprise and noticed the cute little cleft in her chin. He'd like to kiss that sometime, but only if she wanted him to.

"You want to spend the day with me?" Mandy was wondering if the lab chemicals had robbed her of logic. Or perhaps it was that gorgeous hand (which she knew would and could give her the most amazing orgasm ever) touching her cheek that had rendered her giddy and drunk-like.

"Yeah, I do," he drawled. "I've missed you, dandy Mandy!" Nick threw a radiant smile at her that set her heart aflutter.

She smirked, "I've missed you too, bud! I'm glad you're back!"

**A/N: Told you I'd give Nick some good stuff in this chapter. I love writing Nick and Mandy together. **

**PROMPTS:**

**George Eads fans will recognize the name of the murder victim.**

**Stuart Smalley was a Saturday Night Live character played by Al Franken who used to give tongue-in-cheek 'Daily Affirmations' such as the one I wrote above.**

**Sir David Attenborough is the narrator on the Planet Earth DVD. He has a distinctive British accent, very upper crust. He is noted for pronouncing words like 'here' as 'hee ahh' such as "hee ahh in the desert." And rare as rawr**

**Attenborough is one of the most respected broadcaster and naturalist in the world and has been hosting and narrating naturalist and historical documentaries and television programs for over 50 years. **

**I highly recommend y'all watch Planet Earth!**


	15. Chapter 15

_**IRRVERSIBLE**_

_**Chapter 15**_

_MISTAH KURTZ-HE DEAD_

_A penny for the old guy_

_We are the hollow men  
We are the stuffed men  
Leaning together  
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!_  
T.S. Elliot's The Hollow Men

Sorry for the double posting!!

**WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE**

**This is Nick's account of the attack. I certainly would understand if you'd want to skip it.**

The A/V technician fiddled with the webcam and then typed on the laptop. She was young with a distinctive African accent, not to mention quite pretty with bright brown eyes, cocoa coloured skin, and black, wavy hair done up in a bun with strands falling out. She smiled at Nick who sat twisting and untwisting a tissue. Today was the day. Today he'd give his testimony. The goal would be to do it in one session, even though he was told to take two or three if he needed.

'_No freaking way!_' Nick thought. _'__One time reliving it is enough!'_

"You sure that thing isn't going to mess up?" he asked sternly.

The girl looked over and gave him an assuring smile, not a bit offended by the patronizing tone he gave her, and said, "No, Mr. Stokes, it won't. I've been doing this for a long time."

"I don't mean to sound like a jerk," he apologized and then went back to playing origami with the tissue which now looked like some strange bird that had strangled itself on some wire.

"It's fine," she said. "I understand, and while I do have to listen to the details, I have signed a confidentiality agreement. My only purpose is to dub your voice and blacken your image out."

Nick nodded and took some deep breaths to allow himself to calm down. He had not slept the night before, knowing full well this day was here. He'd had a good friend over who slept in the guest room telling him to wake them up if he needed them. His innards were coiling amongst one another so much that if Doc Robbins opened him up he'd find his intestines where his heart should be, his heart where his bowels should be, and his bowels where his lungs should be.

The Texan took a swig of bottled water, cleared his throat, and rehearsed what he had to say over and over again in his head like a script from that damn crime show that he named his cat after.

The door opened and Nick looked up to see Catherine walk in with a warm smile. She pulled up a chair beside him and squeezed his hand. "How ya doin, Nicky?"

Nick swallowed the lump in his throat and said in a shaky voice, "I'm okay." Then he threw a suspicious glance towards the A/V technician again. Catherine had told him the day before that this technician had worked with many victims of assault - including men - and she was the best one around. Confidentiality and respect for the victims were her number one priorities. It wasn't that Archie couldn't do it, but the circle of people who knew about Nick's attack needed to stay confined to those who didn't know him, and those who did would be in jeopardy of losing their jobs if they squealed. Maddie Klein had seen to that as a favour to Grissom. Her number one priority was to keep Nick's secret just that - a secret.

The DA walked in carrying a briefcase, smiling at Nick encouragingly, and sat down across from him. "You ready to go, Nick?"

He nodded reluctantly.

Maddie Klein and Catherine Willows would stay there. None of the men were there, and that's how Nick wanted it to be. Warrick and Grissom seemed to be carrying on as if nothing had happened, while Greg was still leery around him as if he struggled between guilt and anger.

The technician finished up and switched the camera on. The red light beamed, and then she walked out telling them everything was ready to go, closing the door behind her.

Nick inhaled through his nose and then exhaled. Steadying himself, he laid his arms on the table and began to fiddle with his college ring, twisting it around and around his finger, before grabbing his twisted bird tissue and beginning to fiddle with it.

Klein leaned over the table, clasped his hands, and said, "Nick, I know this is going to be very hard, and I'm proud of you for doing this. So let's go back to that day and tell us what happened after you were locked inside the library at the prison."

He bit his lip and twisted the tissue some more, looking around nervously, wondering if it was just them and no one else.

Catherine touched his shoulder and rubbed his back. "Its okay, and it's only us."

"Your identity will remain secret. I promise you that," Klein said earnestly.

He looked at Catherine and nodded. "Okay, I'm ready."

"We can stop whenever you like, Nick." Maddie said, eyes focused on his. "Just say when. We can do this for a week, or we can do it all today. It's your choice."

His heart beat like a raging elephant, but Nick closed his eyes and slowly began. "I was in the library reading T.S. Elliot's 'Hollow Men" when I heard a noise, so I started to check it out. Then someone grabbed me from behind and the lights went out."

"_Sweet jesus look what we got here!" a gruff voice said as someone grabbed him and put him into a chokehold, one arm around his neck and the other grabbing his crotch painfully._

_Nick immediately went into fight mode and began kicking and grabbing at the arms, but with each kick they squeezed him harder. He tried to kick at the perpetrator's own gonads but missed and was rewarded with a vice grip on his own privates as he was pushed forward. He cried out, and a cloth was shoved so far into his mouth his gag reflex beckoned._

_Outside, he heard shouts and the sound of heavy shoes running back and forth. The alarm was screaming._

_His arms were pulled to the back and tied up. He fought, but there were two of them. Then a gun was pressed sharply into his temple. _

"I was fighting them, but there were two of them. It was dark, and I couldn't see anything." Nick bit his lip so hard he thought blood would start trickling. Catherine continued to rub his back, leaning on his shoulder every so often. "When they put my own gun up against my temple, I froze. I don't know why I didn't grab it sooner."

_Nick kicked backwards, feeling his arms being wrapped tightly with what felt like an extension cord._

_They dragged him toward the table while he prayed that someone, anyone, would walk in. Subconsciously, he knew what was going to happen and cursed his impulsivity for checking out the library without proper supervision. The windows surrounding the library were covered in blinds which were drawn shut. _

_Why didn't anyone walk in?_

_As they dragged him like a puppet over to the table, he tripped over a chair and for a second he thought he was going to get away as their vice grip on him loosened, but no such luck. They held him even harder. They yanked him up by the hair with one of them saying, "Get up you son of a bitch!!" He squealed._

_With every bit of muscle in his arms he pushed against the cord, but it was wrapped tightly. Still, he tried and tried and tried and silently prayed for someone to walk in. _

"Oh Jesus! I prayed that something would stop them, but God was obviously not listening to me. They shoved me down on the table, turned my face to the side, and the other guy pressed my gun onto my temple."

_Hands latched onto his belt buckle and hastily undid it along with the buttons on his jeans._

"Jesus, I knew what was coming." Nick let the tears fall freely onto the table. "I just knew it, but part of me kept hoping that they wouldn't do it. I was pleading through the cloth. They told me to 'shut the fuck up!' and just yanked my pants and boxers down and lifted my shirt and vest up." He clasped a hand over his mouth. His voice grew tighter and hoarser at the pervasive memory. He cleared his throat and continued, "I wanted to kick at them again, but they had my gun against my head. Then someone tied my legs to the table. They shoved me over the table…I could smell Pledge cleaner…they were …were fucking putting their fucking hands all over me."

"Where Nick?" Maddie asked.

"Where the fuck do you think?!" Nick glared at her and spit out the words. "On my crotch and my...friggin…balls."

Both women cast frazzled glances at each other and then towards Nick.

"We need to know the details, Nick," Catherine said, wishing she could just take him somewhere and hold him tightly in a mother bear fashion.

Nick gripped the table and pushed back, put his hands on his knees, and began to rock to and fro as he continued on with the account.

"_I've been waiting for this, judge's boy. For fifteen years, I wanted to get back at your daddy for screwing me over. You know, they did to me in that jail what I'm about to do to you. Your daddy sent me to some prison where I became a fucking plaything to all the boys in there."_

_Nick was panting in fear, his skin in goose bumps from the air conditioner. The alarm was still going off, and he heard shouts outside and again wondered where the hell they were. Why wasn't someone coming to his rescue?_

_As if in a dream state, he heard what sounded like a church organ in the next room. He raised his head slightly in that direction, and it was slammed down. Then someone with a large, calloused hand caressed his hair and the rest of him._

"_God, he's a pretty one. I been watching him every time he came into this prison," he grunted as Nick could hear zippers being pulled down. His mind screamed in protest and prayer as hands began to fondle him obscenely again._

"_Oh God please...please no...please...have some mercy on me...dammit...where are you?" the Texan prayed silently, and then he felt something repugnant touching him from behind. "Please no, oh God no…help me...help me...not...this."_

His chest was tightening, and he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He leaned over and inhaled deeply.

"Nick, do you want to stop?" Klein asked him softly.

"No!" Nick sat back up straight, more determined than ever to finish this story.

_Then a hideous thing was forced into him with such brutal strength that Nick screamed until his vocal chords were strained, the sound muffled by the cloth, the shriek ending in deep sobs and pleas to stop._

"Oh fuck, it hurt!" Nick clenched his fists again, closing his eyes, and then bent over again as if his stomach was in agony. "I'd never felt pain like that in my life."

"_Keep quiet you son of a bitch!!" a voice growled, sounding as if it were next to him. "Or I'll fucking take this gun and blow your head off."_

_The voice from behind him touted between thrusts, "We doin' the judge's boy. Pretty thing he was when he was a kid. I checked him out while I was waitin' for his dad to sentence me."_

"He kept calling me the judge's boy." Nick looked at Klein who was trying to stay as objective as possible, but the details were testing her own will.

"_You ain't done this before, pretty boy. I can tell. You's a bleedin' real bad, real bad!"_

_Was there a puppy in the room? No, that was his voice, muffled by the rag. His eyes burned with the tears that slid out of them._

"_Oh poor baby! He's a crying here. Needs his daddy to comfort him!"_

_Someone grabbed his hair and yanked him upward. "Stop crying, motherfucker!" The gun pressed into his temple harder, immediately silencing him. "I'm gonna shove this fucking gun up your ass and pull the trigger if you keep up that fucking crying. You fucking wimp!! Do-gooder! Judge's boy!! You sat there in the courtroom looking like you had the world by the tail. Well look at you now!! You ain't so proud now! You look like a pig ready for the slaughter! You walked around the high school thinking you were so great cause your daddy was a judge when all you were is what are you now a piece of fucking trash!" _

_The pain increased and blackness took over_

"I blacked out, or at least I think I did. I don't know. My mind just decided to go on hiatus, which was good because then the pain wasn't so damn bad," Nick said grimly and grabbed another tissue to twist, the other now tattered.

"_He's a sweet looking thing, ain't he in that vest? I checked him out a few times when he was in the holding a few years back," the other voice said eagerly as his hand reached below the table and started to fondle him._

"I couldn't believe what was happening to me. I kept hoping it was some sick fucking dream." Nick pressed his lips together hard and looked up and away from Maddie whose eyes were red with tears as she tried to jot notes down on a yellow legal pad.

"_Oh man!" the voice from behind him groaned as his hand gripped him tightly, like a vice, and painfully twisted, earning a pain-filled cry of agony. "Never thought I'd see the day where I'd be doin' the judge's boy!"_

_Laughter, pain, laughter… pain that thrust him forward on a mahogany table, his nose hitting the poetry book he'd read earlier._

_He tried to spit the cloth out and pleaded. His pleas to them to stop came out muffled, like a puppy crying, and the pain was drowning him in an ocean. His mind teetered between denial and reality, wanting denial to win the battle because reality meant pain and possible death. Nick continued to pray to some entity for this to end._

"I wanted to die at that moment. I was hoping they'd kill me." He looked at Catherine who was dabbing her own tear-filled eyes.

"_Oh I know he's never done this, he's a bleeding away here like a stabbed pig," the voice from behind him said as Nick felt him shift his weight to get a better aim._

"_He is a pig," the other voice said, "and right now we teaching this pig a thing or two about life...real life. These pretty boys know nothing about the fucking crap that goes on. You know his daddy's a judge in Texas...bet he'd like to hear what his pretty boy is doing right now."_

_The voice beside him twisted his ear. "Squeal, piggy, squeal." _

_Nick shook his head defiantly, but then they warned him that if he didn't, they'd kill him. He shook his head again, but they twisted his ear so hard that a small cry was uttered. They laughed and sang the dueling banjo song from the movie 'Deliverance'._

_Humiliated that he gave in, tears started to slid out of his eyes. He squeezed his lids tightly to stop them, but they had a mine of their own._

"_Stop fucking crying, judge's boy!! Oh look, he's crying away here, needs his momma to come and take care of his boos boos."_

_Then Nick felt his hair being pulled and he was facing someone he couldn't see but whose rank breath he could smell, and then his face was slapped with such force he thought his head was going to be ripped off. Then he was shoved back over the table, his stomach nauseated by the sudden movements and from the action, the gun pressed even harder, and the attack continued with a viciousness as if this guy was going to use his member to kill him if it was the last thing he would do._

"I was blacked out for a long time. I don't know how long they...kept at it. Seemed like hours," Nick said, his voice growing so quiet that Maddie reluctantly told him he'd have to speak up for the camera.

"Sorry," he said blankly.

"No, don't be sorry," Maddie said. "I just don't want you to have to do this again, that's all."

_A slap on his back brought him out of the merciful darkness, and it was followed by maniacal laughter. "Hey pretty boy...your daddy...me in jail...long time ago...I never forgot that...what a self-righteous pompous ass he was...well payback's a bitch!!"_

"I don't know how long they kept at it. I was just in a blur," he said.

_The pain was launching Nick into spirals. Nausea threatened to project from him. Then he blacked out again, mercifully. Sweat formed on his skin, launching him cruelly back to reality; back to reality and the pain. The fucking pain tore him in two - at least it felt that way. He could feel blood starting to slide down from wounds that burned like fire._

_He stretched his hands against the cords, hoping to loosen them, grab the gun from the guy, and start shooting, but they had those things wrapped as tight as a boa constrictor._

_The gun pressed harder against his temple and threats were made as Nick whimpered and pleaded through the cloth, hating the sound that came from him like a kicked puppy._

"You know, I thought there was a puppy crying in the room, but it was me. I was making that whimpering noise every time...they…" Nick stopped for a moment to gather himself.

_Nick felt frozen, as if he was leaving his body and his brain was reciting a stanza. What was it? Oh yeah, from the 'Hollow Men' by T.S. Elliot._

"You know, when Stephanie was in the dump she was singing that song over and over. You know sometimes your brain just goes off in different directions. I kept thinking of that poem I read," Nick said to the women.

_This is the way the world ends_

_This is the way the world ends_

_This is the way the world ends_

_Not with a bang but a whimper_

Nick placed an elbow on the table and leaned into his hand. "Then he...finally...finished. I felt him ejaculate in me...and I thought for a second it was over, but then the other had to have his turn with me."

_He heard the person behind him groan and warm fluid coated him, then relief as he pulled out and Nick prayed that this was it. It was over and then what? Death wasn't looking too bad - better than this._

"_Your turn."_

"_Oh thank you, thank you very much," sounding like Elvis._

"You know, your body responds to stimuli whether you like it or not. That was the worst part," Nick choked out.

"It's normal, Nick. It's a normal physiological reaction," Catherine said, looking away.

"_I think he's enjoying this."_

"_Yeah, he's getting a boner!"_

_He tried to shake his head, 'No', but he was too weak. That was the last straw. Now he wanted to die. His body had betrayed him, and so now, like a sheep knowing its death is imminent, Nick hoped they would kill him._

"_Save a horse, ride a cowboy!!" the guy sang._

_A voice whispered to Nick, "Couldn't get to your daddy, so I'm doing the next best thing, I'm doing you instead." _

"Then when the other guy was done, well…the bigger guy was inside me again." Nick lips were quivering.

"_Yeah, his daddy was some big pompous judge in Texas," the voice behind him snarled and forced himself even harder while saying, "Fucking asshole. Ruined my life he did. This is what they did to me in prison when I was a kid. Payback's a bitch!!"_

_How long had this been going on? Big guy was back inside him again telling him he was doin' real good, real, real good, while going on and on about his dad. The pain was sending him off again into neverland._

_There was a momentary pause as if the two of them were contemplating their next move, and a small part of Nick's brain said that he could try to escape, could try to spit the rag out, but he didn't want to escape. He wanted them to kill him._

_Instead kisses were run over his neck. He squirmed at the mere touch as someone said. "You was good, cowboy! Real good."_

_They continued to fondle him some more, praising him for being such a good boy for it being his first time and they hoped to see him around the prison again._

"Then they untied me from the table, still holding the gun to my head, and then untied my wrists. I was like a robot, Catherine. It was like I was there, but the rest of me checked out. I guess I was in shock. My stomach was sick, and I was so weak that if it weren't for the table I would have just collapsed on the floor and crawled away like a wounded animal."

_Tears streamed down his face as he felt his pants rising back up. Someone lifted him slightly as the fabric slid over his butt and groin and up to waist and they dropped him back onto the table as they untied him. He felt the warmth of blood pouring out him. He was so tired and just wanted to crawl away and die like a dog that had been hit by a car._

"They actually dressed me." Nick shook his head, laughing at the irony of hinted respect. "They put my pants back on."

"_You done?" one voice said._

"_Yeah I'm done. Ready to go?"_

"_Yep."_

_The rag was pulled out and Nick gasped in relief, but flinched as someone pulled him upright and tight to their body, shoving the gun into his mouth. _

_A voice whispered in his ear, "If you breathe a word of this, I'll find you and kill you. You understand, Mr. Stokes? I had a look at your wallet, so I know where you live, and this time I'll shoot you while I'm up your bony, scrawny, southern ass. You understand?"_

_The Texan nodded feebly, trying to find the words to ask if they could just kill him right now._

_He stood there, with his pants undone, and leaned with his palms on the table, the world spinning around and around as another stanza chanted:_

_Here we go around the prickly pear_

_The prickly pear, the prickly pear_

_Here go around the prickly pear_

_At five o'clock in the morning._

_Nick smiled at the gibberish wording and simply and silently responded while wondering where his gun was:_

_This is the way Nick Stokes ends, not with a whimper, but with a bang!_

"After they left, I just zipped up my jeans and buttoned them and walked in circles, like a dog that we had once that had been hit by a car. He was just spinning and spinning until my dad got out the shotgun and put it out of its misery. I wished someone would have done that for me. I walked around the library, and then I threw up in the wastepaper basket. I didn't even have anything in my stomach to bring up, but I did. Then that director walked in and the guard who looks like Barack Obama, and they were asking me questions, but I don't remember what they were. I just wanted to get out of there and go home. Then I puked in the garbage can in Greg's Denali. When I got home I ran and took a shower…a long, boiling hot one. I just couldn't stand feeling those bastards on my skin. I wanted to kill myself, but I didn't. But I wanted to, and sometimes I still do."

As if coming out of a trance, Nick looked around the room surveying the reaction of the other two people. Catherine had her arm on his back, while Maddie sat back in her chair, arms folded as tears streamed down her cheeks. Through a broken voice, she pressed the button on the wall and asked the girl to come back in.

"Thank you, Nick," Klein finally said, her voice thick. "I know that wasn't easy for you, but it's done and you are getting counseling. I'm sorry I'm crying myself. I've heard the worst of the worse, but it's different when it's one of ours. Shouldn't be, but it is."

Catherine sniffled, cleared her throat, and answered hoarsely, "It is. It is different, but for me it's because it's my friend." She finally looked at Nick, and for the first time she realized the toll this had taken on him. He looked as if he'd aged twenty years in six months.

"How's the counseling going?" Maddie asked, trying to bring a semblance of normalcy back.

"Good," Nick answered, fiddling with the wad of tissue he'd made. "I'm seeing her twice a week."

"Excellent," she said. "Nick, work on your healing. Go find that dummy we use and punch the shit out of it."

"Done. I'm thinking I'm gonna have to pay for a replacement," he said with a small smile.

Maddie smiled. "Don't worry. I'll tell Ecklie to get a new one in pronto."

But the Texan's smile had faded as quickly as it came.

"I just wish I could go back to that day," Nick said flatly. "Wish I'd stayed in that damn office and not gone into the library."

"It wasn't your fault," Maddie insisted. "As far as I'm concerned, we have the right to be safe wherever we are. We should be able to stand buck naked in the middle of the Strip and not have anyone touch us in a perverse way. Alright?" Nick laughed slightly at the image of anyone standing naked on the Strip as Maddie went on, "If there's blame to be laid here, it's on those idiots who run the prison who should never, ever have left you alone that day. It's on us for not being there when you guys got there, and mostly it's on those two sons of bitches who took advantage of the situation. So stop blaming yourself. Am I clear on that?" Her voice was authoritative, warning him not to counter that statement.

"Yeah," Nick said softly, "you're clear. Thanks."

To his surprise Maddie got up, walked over, and hugged him. "You did great, Nick, and all I ask from you is to try to put this horrible situation behind you. You deserve a little happiness."

After the door closed, Nick stood up and turned to Catherine who was still recovering. She sniffled into a tissue and laughed when she saw the small wad Nick had made for himself during his testimony.

"You didn't have to be here and listen to all that." He knelt down and put his arm around her shoulders, seeing that now she was the one who needed comfort.

"Of course I did," Catherine said. "It's my case, and I had to see it through. You didn't say anything that I didn't already suspect, Nick."

"Just don't do what Grissom did and tell me it's over. It's never over."

"I wouldn't do that," Catherine told him. "And I'm here whenever you need me, you got that? Don't ever, ever run off like that again without at least telling me why. Okay?"

He looked at her and smiled half-heartedly. "Yeah, I'll just run off to Disneyland."

She laughed, "Oh no you don't! Then Grissom would stick me with all your cases." As Nick stood back up, Catherine asked, "You don't have to be alone tonight. You can hang out with me."

He smiled bashfully and told her, "Don't worry, Cat, I'm fine." And as he opened the door, Catherine could see why he was going to be 'fine'. Mandy was waiting outside the room for him as Nick walked out. She stood up and smiled warmly as he walked over.

"It's done," he said as he walked over, hands in pockets, and then was enveloped in a comforting embrace. The CSI returned the embrace welcomingly.

"Good!" Mandy said, withdrawing, and with her hands on his shoulders asked, "Ready to get going?"

"Yeah," Nick answered gruffly, nodding and wiping his nose.

Mandy linked an arm through his and they slowly walked away.

Catherine watched them leave and felt somewhat hopeful for her colleague. She knew tonight she'd have to go home and still hear that horrible story in her head, but at least she knew that he wasn't going to be alone with the memories and flashbacks that he'd live with for the rest of his life. At least for Nick, he'd be with someone caring.

xxXXxx

"So I'll bet you're glad that's over?" Mandy asked as they sat at the dining room table in Nick's house playing Scrabble and listening to some classic rock from the music channel. As usual, Mandy was kicking his ass.

Chinese food was scattered on their plates. The Texan had nibbled a little bit, but not much. His stomach was still jumping around doing a Cha-Cha, and his mind was scattered. He sipped on some beer they'd picked up on the way home. He relished in the taste, not having been able to drink any alcohol in months.

His eyes combed through the little wooden letters trying to figure out if he could spell 'history' with them. "Yeah." Nick gave up and tried to configure another word, then said, "Can we...just watch some TV?"

"It's getting late anyways," she yawned. "I should go home."

"You don't have to." Nick clamped his mouth shut and ducked to put the letters back into the box, but he caught a smile from her.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "You were a good boy last night. I wasn't sure if you were gong to sneak in or not."

"That was the last thing on my mind, Mandy," he said as he took the dishes into the kitchen. He dumped them in the sink and grabbed some cat food to feed to George.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to imply anything," Mandy said, looking ashamed.

"No, don't worry about it. But I'm…not ready to...to be alone after today," he admitted, embarrassed. "And it's still the last thing on my mind."

She grinned. "I can stay another night. That futon is really comfortable."

"If it's not, you can take my bed," he said as George jumped onto his shoulder and then jumped off and onto the counter where he was unceremoniously tossed off by his owner with a scolding about getting his potty paws everywhere.

"No, not at all. I like it," she said and walked over to give him a hug. She held him tightly, enjoying how good he felt and feeling a surge of longing in her. Dammit, she wanted to stay here and get into the sack with him and lavish him with love and affection, which he certainly needed after today.

Nick had looked downright drained when he came out of that room. Whatever details were admitted must have been exhausting and emotional for everyone in the room.

Afterward they had picked up some Coors and Chinese food and headed back to his place to hang out, watch the Dog Whisperer, and then play some Scrabble. Mandy never asked about the day of his attack. He had told her an abbreviated version of it in the car two weeks earlier, but the nitty-gritty he had left out, and she wasn't sure if she ever wanted to know. But if he ever wanted to talk about it, she would certainly listen.

Since he'd returned to work, they'd hung out a lot. She knew that he was still feeling somewhat estranged from his team and that Greg was giving him attitude while Warrick was, in Nick's opinion, insincere in his approach towards him. Only Catherine and Grissom (to a small degree) were being supportive and encouraging. So Nick let it go with the other two and figured they'd find their way back eventually.

"You got me," she had told him at the diner one day.

"Yeah, you make me laugh, Mandy!" he said. "That's why I like hangin' with you."

And that's where things stood. There'd been no physical contact of any sort except hugs and the occasional hand holding, although not in the lab.

_Ecklie had given them the old 'keep it out of the lab' lecture one day as he stopped them in the hallway. How he knew? They suspected it was Hodges._

_Nick had responded, "Keep what out of the lab?" And the two of them smiled innocently at Ecklie and walked on._

Now it wasn't that Mandy didn't want to get in the sack with Nick. She was dying on the vine to, but she didn't push it. He wasn't ready, and neither was she - fearful of memories of a trailer park sex therapist getting in between them and of being compared to her. Not that Mandy herself didn't have some wonderful moves she could try with him, but they weren't there yet. Ghosts of many sorts surrounded them like out of the movie Poltergeist.

He pulled away and said, "I'm gonna hit the sack. You can stay up if you want."

"I'm gonna clean up here a bit, okay?" Mandy looked at Nick and saw the tiredness in his eyes. They were raw and red. She kissed him on the cheek and said, "Night, Nick."

In the bedroom, Nick pulled on some grey pajama bottoms and a t-shirt and laid on the bed while George kneaded the pillow next to his and then finally curled into a ball. The clanging of dishes and the sound of running water came from the kitchen as Mandy rinsed off their dinner plates and stored them in the dishwasher. His eyelids felt like dead weight, and to the sound of George rumbling Nick fell asleep.

xxXXxx

Nick opened his eyes and was surrounded by plexi-glass and dirt. He panicked and looked around. On one side lay McVeigh with blood on his face and an insidious smile. Then he looked up and saw her - the babysitter, lying on top of him.

Nick sat up with an abrupt cry and looked around, sweating plentifully, his t-shirt damp. He gasped and tried to control his breathing, clutching the comforter, and then jumped as he heard a knock at his bedroom door.

"It's me, Nick," Mandy's voice said softly through the door. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," he rasped out.

Light from the hallway filled the room as she came in, her hair slightly askew, wearing a pink tank top and pink pajama bottoms. She came over and sat on the bed, the light shadowing her face. Cross-legged, she sat beside him and grabbed his hand. "Nightmare?"

He nodded.

"Bad one?" Even in the dim light, Nick looked like a lost little boy.

"Very bad!"

"Do you want to talk about it? You don't have to. But it's okay. I'll listen." She told him. Her glasses were off and in the dim light, Nick found himself looking into the most sincere brown eyes he'd ever seen, he swallowed hard and started to talk.

"I just remember Greg saying goodbye, and I just ran into the house, locked the door, and grabbed some kind of antibacterial soap and just ripped off my clothes and went into the shower and scrubbed and scrubbed. I knew in my head I was getting rid of evidence, but I couldn't have it on me anymore. I felt so fucking stained...that's all I could think of. I scrubbed so damn hard I ripped my skin to shreds. Then after I got out, I looked at my clothes and saw blood all over my shorts and it hit me then that it had happened. It was like the evidence was sitting there, but I couldn't deal with it. So I got dressed and then I remember holding my Glock and thinking I wanted to kill myself." He laughed as he said that. "And that's pretty much how I felt for weeks after, like I just wanted to do myself in. There wasn't a day that went by where I wasn't hearing McVeigh's voice in my head, whispering to me. And that night when I was with you…oh Jesus, I wanted to be with you, but when you started undoing my belt I heard McVeigh in my head and I just flipped out."

He looked at Mandy who nodded. "I understand. I wish I hadn't reacted the way I did."

"How the hell else could you respond? You had no idea what I'd gone through, and I couldn't tell you, Mandy," Nick said.

They sat together for awhile, taking in the information, and then Mandy asked, "Did you ever see the movie, 'A Beautiful Mind'?"

Nick looked at her, "Yeah, Russell Crowe played John Nash, a professor with schizophrenia."

"Do you remember how it came to pass that he went back to his career?"

"Yeah, he just said that the hallucinations were there, but somehow he found the strength within himself to ignore them."

"Yeah, so when you hear McVeigh's voice, don't feed into it. The more you give in, the stronger impact these guys will have on your life. If you teach yourself not to acknowledge their voices, they will slowly have less impact on you. The memories will always be there, but at least you could detach yourself from them." She smiled.

"Easier said than done."

"I know that, Nick. I'm not saying it's going to be easy. But my dear," she turned and faced him, "I'm here for you."

He smiled and looked down at the comforter, sighing heavily. "You're a great friend, Mandy. I'm lucky to have you. The guys just treat me differently."

"Give them time," she said.

Nick sighed, "Yeah, well, they don't have to live with the nightmares, so it can't be that hard. Try being me and wondering every day how you could have prevented yourself from being attacked."

They were silent for a moment and then Mandy ordered, "Scooch over!"

Nick looked at her quizzically, "Wha…?"

"Move over."

Nick slid on his butt across the bed and Mandy moved herself to the other side and said, "No, this is not what you think. Think of me as a transitional object. You know…a woobie?" She eyed him knowingly.

"Okay, who told you?" the Texan groaned as another one of his secrets made its way through the lab.

"I don't reveal my sources," she answered. "What was your woobie?"

"Ummm..." Nick tried to recall, "…think it was a teddy bear…real ratty thing…mom said I dragged it everywhere and I used to sit with it in one hand with my thumb in my mouth." He eyed her nervously. "Don't tell anyone that."

"Don't worry about that," she laughed and then told him, "So I'll be your teddy bear tonight."

"To do what I want with?" Nick drawled playfully.

"No, just to cuddle is all."

He sighed and pulled the comforter up around them and slid down. "I like the sound of that, Dandy Mandy!"

"So do I, dude!" she said as she stretched out onto her side, curling into him. His arm slid around her waist and pressed her into him as she whispered, "Don't try anything."

"Last thing on my mind right now," he whispered sleepily and felt himself drifting off to a more peaceful world.

"I won't argue with you if you do, though," she giggled and was met with silence. She turned around and smiled as she could see he was fast asleep.

**_A/N: Originally, I had planned to dedicate one chapter to Nick's account of his attack, but afterwards I just felt there needed to be some warmth in the end so that readers don't go away feeling dismayed. I hope I accomplished that._**

**_When I first started writing 'Irreversible', I wrote a draft of the attack first so I could then work from that on how Nick would deal with it. _**

**_The Hollow Men is one of my favourite poems and kind of reminds me of the world Nick works in_.**


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

**IRREVERSIBLE**

**CHAPTER 16**

"_And he tried to believe_

_That his life has meaning_

_With his hand over his heart_

_Pour le monde, pas pour le gurre"_

_-Pour Le Monde, Crowded House_

_**Apologies and thanks to Smokey-I didn't thank her in my last two chapters for her hard work as my BETA. She's a brave woman for taking this story on. **_

Wag-A-Way's property manager, Lauretta Kailan, sat defiantly. Her brown, curly hair hung loosely around her shoulders. She was a small, feisty woman with cleavage spilling out of her low-cut top. The display jiggled as she waved her arms around angrily in front of the CSI and the detective.

Nick calmly showed her the evidence…a hidden surveillance tape (one of the attendants had hidden a camera in a doggie statue) showing that she, in fact, had bashed Adam Willingford in the head with a squeegee used to rinse the dog runs out. Then she wiped off the blood and placed the squeegee in the victim's hand before calling 911.

"Why did you do it?" Nick asked her in a steely voice, eyes dark with furor.

"That guy was gonna report me to the labour board!" she snarled at Nick in the interrogation room.

"Maybe if you'd been following safety procedures he wouldn't have had to do it," he told her and nodded at Brass who immediately arrested her.

As the cops led Kailan away, the detective called him over. Nick flicked a strange look at the stout detective who was staring at him, nervously running a hand over his balding scalp. "Good to see you back in the game, Nicky!" Brass shook his hand and then pulled him into a half embrace, patting his back.

Nick was taken aback by the sudden show of emotion and simply said, "Uh…thanks, Brass."

"Look, I'm sorry I wasn't there that day." Brass's shoulders were slumped, hands in his pockets. He had a hell of a time looking straight into Nick's eyes, but then forged on with his apology - one he should have given to the kid weeks ago. "And while I haven't been the most supportive friend around here, you know I'm here for you. So anytime you wanna go for a drink or anything, let me know."

"Thanks, Jim. That means more than you know," Nick replied with great relief. He was gathering some papers into a file folder when he noticed that the stout man had more to say. "Just say it, Brass."

"If I'd been there, maybe...maybe it wouldn't have happened," Brass said gruffly, shaking his head.

"No, I went into the library without proper security and…well, a lot of things went wrong that day. Shit happens, Jim," Nick said to the self-flagellating detective who smiled crookedly.

"Well," Brass said, "I'll just say this, Nick. I've worked on a lot of cases and…well, a lot of people don't survive those attacks. You beat the odds. Remember that."

Nick continued to shuffle through the papers and said, "I'll remember that."

"So when does McVeigh go to trail?"

"The kidnapping trial is this morning. I don't know why he's pleading not guilty. We found the beret at his trailer. He's just trying to be an asshole is all," Nick said. "The murder one is in a few months. He's claiming Smith did it. The stick they used was a hockey stick. It was found too late for any epithelial to be found, so it's his word against a dead man. Klein's pretty sure she can get a guilty verdict though, at least as an accessory."

"What about yours?"

Nick looked up, smiling and said in a relieved voice, "He's pled guilty to that one. There's way too much evidence and too many witnesses to that one. The letter from his partner was pretty incriminating," Nick explained as they watched Lauretta Kailan being booked.

Brass asked, "Are you going to the kidnapping trial this morning?"

"I'm testifying at it," Nick said. "I found Stephanie. Poor kid has to testify against him. Asshole has to put the kid through the nightmare again."

"You nervous?"

"About what?"

"Seeing her mother or being on the stand in front of that son of a bitch."

"Oh…well, her mom…well, that's all said and done. McVeigh…well, I'm shittin' bricks about that one," Nick replied as they headed down the hall. "But I'll do it for Stephanie. I'll just have to stare at something else…or someone else." He gazed at Mandy who was showing a file to Greg Sanders. She looked up, noticing his smile and responded with a warm one of her own.

"Yeah, having someone to distract you is a big help." Brass looked at the lab tech and went on, "She's a great lady, Nick. Never pictured you two as a couple, but hey, who am I to judge? Great catch there, kid!"

"I know it," Nick said and then asked with a sly grin, "Who said we hooked up?" And with a wave he walked away.

As he walked by print lab, he noticed Mandy was now talking merrily with Henry. He remembered that he had a beef with her over something - a mercy date with Henry who had a wedding to attend.

They hadn't really confirmed their relationship to anyone yet, even to themselves. They had slept together - emphasis on "slept", as in sawing logs. Mandy had awoken before him that morning and left a note saying she had to check in on the newbie that was hired. She returned later that morning with some muffins from a new Canadian donut shop called Tim Horton's, telling him that urban legend has it that the franchise is known for its addictive coffee because they 'allegedly' put nicotine in it. She smiled as she saw him and said goodbye to Henry who scurried away when he saw the Texan.

"Hey you!" Mandy grinned merrily. "Ready to go?"

Nick nodded. "Thanks for coming today."

"Hey!" She was dressed in a button up grey blouse with a black, wrap-around skirt. "You think I'd let you do this alone?"

"I'm just gonna go get my suit on," he said as he walked towards the locker room with her following.

"Can I watch you?" she asked quietly. "I've already seen you in your pajama bottoms, so nothing's left."

He leaned over and whispered, "I ain't giving you a peep show."

"I gave you one," she answered in a hushed tone, noticing the stares from Hodges and Wendy. With a gleam in her eye she added, "Remember? In fact, you saw _everything_ there is to see on me."

"I remember!" Nick nodded with a small, gleeful smile at the memory and then went on to say, "You wanna peep show, you gotta make a promise to me."

"What promise? She asked, her bedroom eyes filled with confusion.

"No mercy dates with anyone." Nick instructed and winked.

Mandy was taken aback by the comment, but proceeded to sit down on the bench in the change room while he took his shirt off and slid the white dress shirt on. Then, with a playful grin, he grabbed his dress pants and went off to the bathroom.

"Hey that's not fair!" she whined as he waved bye-bye to her.

xxXXxx

The courtroom was empty as Nick and Mandy walked in and slid into seats in the back. Nick squeezed Mandy's hand and smiled at her.

"He can't do anything to you here," she whispered. "I've got my favourite high heel shoes on and I'll whip 'em at him."

"I'm not worried about him hurting me. I'm just worried about what's gonna happen when I see him," Nick said, looking at her. "I might want to try to kill him again."

Mandy leaned over and handed Nick something - prayer beads. He gave her a strange look and said, "I'm not Catholic. I'm Episcopalian."

"Yeah, so am I. These are prayer beads to help calm you. The Julian of Norwich prayer."

"Oh yeah, that one." Nick looked at the beads and muttered, "And all shall be well, and all shall be well, because Nick Stokes, will be going to hell!" He laughed at his own, dark humour.

"Oh shut up!" She punched him lightly and he hissed while rubbing the spot, "Man, you got a punch on yah!"

"All the better to keep your Texan ass in line."

Nick smiled sheepishly. "Maybe I'd like a good whipping from you."

She leaned over and drawled, "We can stop by that sex shop, and I'll get a paddle for your skinny ass…one of those college ones."

"Those hurt!" Nick whispered. "Trust me, I know. Don't ask how I know. I just do."

"Oh, you must tell me!" Mandy grinned, leaning closer to Nick, wanton for tales of his naughty college days. "I'd like that image in my head of you getting a spanking on that skinny butt."

Nick shot her a sulky look, a fake one, that is. "What do you mean my ass is skinny?! My ass is fine." He slumped down, pretending to sulk. "Besides, it does the trick!"

"I'm sure it does, but I'm still interested in knowing about the college paddle you know so much about," Mandy whispered, hand over her face to avoid the glare of the courtroom officer.

"No! I won't tell because you don't need to know." Nick grabbed her book out of her bag, 'Pillars of the Earth', and commented, "This is a big book."

"I like big things," she told him, poker faced, but that didn't last as giggles broke between them.

Nick responded, "I'll keep that in mind." The Texan was grateful for the light-hearted humour bestowed on him by the lab tech as it gave him reprieve from the intense anxiety of having to face both the woman who broke his heart and the man who destroyed his spirit.

They were quiet for a mere second before Mandy leaned over and whispered in his ear - a sweet sensation. "Nick, you look so damn FINE in that suit. You look ready for the red carpet. Like your Hollywood doppelganger!"

"Even if I was a star, I wouldn't dare walk a red carpet. All those people staring at me would freak me out. I'd panic and run off and tell my agent that I don't do red carpets. I would just go off and have a fling with some young starlet because I can!" He nodded triumphantly then added, "I think I'm that guy's doppelganger!"

Mandy said, "No argument here, but I did read that he freaks at red carpets."

"Yeah, I think I'll go to Hollywood and really freak him out, he might think I'm some sort of harbinger of bad luck and then get on his Harley with his yellow lab and drive off somewhere, then I'll take his job and be rich!" then Nick sighed, "But I'd probably get arrested with drugs in my car, but then I could say they're not mine and because I'm a Hollywood celebrity, I get away with it."

"Oh Nicky, don't be silly!" The lab tech sighed, "you always have me and George, and we like you poor! Besides, you can't act worth a damn!"

Mandy slid a hand along his thigh, but Nick grabbed it and held it tightly with a warning, "Behave yourself, Miss Webster, or I'll be using a paddle on your ass at the rate you're going," Nick warned her with a bashful smile.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" she whispered back with a furtive grin. "Either way, I might enjoy that."

"Yeah, you would!" Nick snorted and looked back at the book with a strange look.

"What's wrong, Nick? Too many big words for you?" she asked, knowing it would get her into big trouble.

"You are going to get it!" He shook his head. "Big time...I'm buying that paddle!"

"Oh really? I've got more insults in store!" Her look brightened, but then it disappeared quickly. Nick followed her gaze and quickly looked back at Mandy whose face had gone dark. She quietly asked in a testy voice, "That's her, isn't it?"

Nick put the book over his face and answered, "Yep." His leg jumped up and down rapidly as he pretended to read.

Mandy took the book away from him. "You'll only make yourself more noticeable."

Eponine had walked in dressed in a grey, tight-fitting wrap-around dress, her hair straightened, bangs cut straight across her forehead. Stephanie followed, wearing a pretty pink dress, her brown hair up in a pony tail that curled around into one big ringlet. The two of them walked up to Maddie Klein who spoke to them about what was going to happen. Eponine nodded nervously at whatever the D.A. had to say to her. She then took Stephanie by the hand and slid into the front row behind Klein who sat with her assistant writing notes.

"Is it hard to be in the same room with her?" Mandy asked, now very calm and assured as if she'd come to the conclusion that Eponine was not all that.

"Long as she doesn't know I'm here, I'm fine," he mumbled. "I don't have anything to say her."

Truth was, it was damn hard. And as hard it was for him, he felt quite bad for Mandy, but a squeeze of his hand assured him she was holding her own.

"Her daughter is really cute," Mandy said.

"Yeah, she's a great kid. She's got a really, really good singing voice. It sounds older than she is."

"That's how Britney Spears got her start," Mandy chuckled. "So will she be shaving her head in a few years?"

"Oh, I don't think her mother would allow her to go downhill like that."

Just then Eponine turned around and saw him. He just smiled to acknowledge her, then looked down and started twirling his college ring around his finger. But his attention was soon paid to something more ominous. At the side of the courtroom, John McVeigh strolled in, dressed in a grey suit, his hair up in a pony tail. He didn't dare look at anyone and sat at the table next to his lawyer who wore an "I'd rather be doing anything but this" look.

Nick sat up straight and watched Stephanie as she hid her face in her mother's shoulder. He wondered why in hell the kid had to testify in front of such a hateful human being. Eponine wrapped her arm around her and whispered a few words into her ear.

Everyone was ordered to rise as Judge Colbert ambled in and sat down, flipped out his glasses, and then read over the paperwork. He cocked an eyebrow and called Klein and McVeigh's creepy-looking lawyer to the stand.

Nick strained to listen and caught the whispering of "Are you sure about this?"

McVeigh's lawyer nodded. The judge shrugged and said, "Mr. McVeigh, will you please stand?"

McVeigh stood up.

"Mr. McVeigh, you have agreed to change your not guilty plea in the case of the State Versus McVeigh on charges of kidnapping to that of guilty? Am I correct on this?"

"Yes, Your Honour," McVeigh said.

"In fact, in your other cases, which we will deal with later, you've agreed to plead guilty as well. The cases I'm referring to are the State Versus McVeigh on charges of sexual assault in the first degree, forcible confinement, assault on an officer, and making death threats to a member of law enforcement. In addition, you are pleading guilty to second degree murder in the case of Corrections Officer Conrad Noir."

"Yes, Your Honour." His voice was devoid of emotion.

"We'll reconvene in two weeks for the sentencing in all three case…might as well do it all at once so the victims and family members of the victims can pick up whatever's left of their lives you so aptly tore apart. In your wake, a child has been traumatized, a woman widowed, leaving four children without a father, and another man, who is well respected in the community for his work and whose testimony I, myself, could barely listen to…you victimized this man beyond words." He cast a quick compassionate glance towards Nick. "I only hope that someday all of these victims find a way to heal from your evil and hideous deeds, McVeigh."

McVeigh's lawyer stood up. "Your Honour, my client would like to say something to the court."

McVeigh stood up, the chair scraping against the floor.

Nick held his breath and waited.

"I'm sorry for hurting all of you," McVeigh said. His voice emitted no emotion.

"For some of us here, it's too little, too late," the judge said casting another compassionate, quick glance in Nick's direction and then at a cringing Stephanie. He slammed down the gavel and ordered that court be adjourned.

McVeigh was led out of the room.

Nick exhaled and looked at Mandy in pure shock. "I don't believe it."

"Well, he had no case really," she said as they stood up and started out of the courtroom.

"Nick!!" He heard a cry and turned to see Stephanie running up eagerly to him. She threw her arms around him. "I've missed you."

He returned the hug. "I missed you too."

"Are you gonna come visit us?" She asked, her big, brown eyes hopeful and yearning.

Nick looked up, saw Eponine walking toward him, and said, "I don't know. I can't promise anything, Stephanie, but if I'm ever in Maine, I'll look you up." He stood up straight and felt Mandy tense up beside him. He nodded politely. "Hi."

Eponine folded her arms. "Hi. Well, that was a surprise."

"Yeah, well, he didn't have a case. Too much evidence against him. His lawyer probably didn't want to be on the public tab anymore." Nick shoved his hands into his suit pockets and pressed his lips together.

"So you're doing well?" Eponine asked, noting Mandy's presence.

"I'm doing fine. And you?"

"School is busy. I've been hired on as a public health educator at a youth centre." The dark-haired woman looked around as if she wanted to escape as fast as she could from the hard stare of the man whose heart she stomped all over when it was the last thing in the world he needed.

"That's good," Nick said and then introduced Mandy who nodded politely at Eponine.

She smiled politely back. "Mandy from the lab? Nick mentioned you a few times."

Mandy folded her arms and shrugged. "He's mentioned you too."

The tension was so thick that Nick could hear George cutting it with his dew claw.

"Well, we'd better get going, Stephanie." Eponine rubbed her daughter's head.

"Can Nick come to lunch with us?" She looked up at her mother with baited breath.

"I'm sorry, Stephanie," Nick stepped in, "I've got a big case to get back to, so I have to go." He patted her on the head and told her, "Keep singing. I'll be first in line to buy your album."

Stephanie looked up at him sadly and then grabbed her mom's hand and they walked away.

Nick turned to Mandy. "I just have one more thing I wanna do and then we're out of here."

"Sure," she said as she walked over to some benches outside the courtroom. I'll just wait here." Mandy pulled the book out of her bag and turned to the page she had dog-eared.

"You and that big book of yours," Nick said pointing to the book as he started to stroll down the hallway.

"Told you I like big things." She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the hidden meaning of their conversation.

Nick made his way down the hall to where the holding room was and saw McVeigh sitting in a small room. He looked at the guard who recognized him.

"He's in there. Chained up like Hannibal the Cannibal," the black, skinny guard named Andrew Butler said and sighed, "Wish you'd said something to me, Stokes. We've been friends for years. I knew something was up when you were asking for all the info on McVeigh and Smith, but that was the furthest thing on my mind. I'm really sorry we weren't there for you that day. I didn't want go on strike, but I had to follow the crew. If I hadn't, these guys would never have my back."

"I don't blame you at all," Nick assured the man, "And I couldn't say anything to you because I didn't want to deal with it."

"Yeah, I understand, but I hear about it all the time in there." The jail guard sneered towards McVeigh. "Trust me, he's getting the VIP treatment for what he did to you. He's in solitary confinement 'cause perverts like him would get slaughtered in the general population. They don't care who or what he attacked. Perverts are prey in there."

"Gee," Nick said sarcastically looking at McVeigh through the glass window of the door and then back at Andrew, "my heart goes out to him."

"Yeah, his meals are a little late, and I add a little something special before I give them to him…a little phlegm a la mode. You hear what I'm saying?" Butler smiled evilly, nodding to Nick who made a gross face.

"Don't get yourself in trouble over that." Nick snickered. "It ain't worth it. I wanna see him."

"I ain't leaving you alone in there with him."

"Glad to hear it."

Butler opened the door and showed Nick into the room with grey walls and a steel bench where McVeigh sat chained at both hands and feet - a fitting tribute to such a man.

Nick stared at his rapist with a strength he hadn't had in the months since his attack. As far as he was concerned, McVeigh was a piece of dirt, and dirt was something to walk on, not to be afraid of. Still, a small part of him shook at the sight of him, but he was hell-bent to not allow it to come to the surface.

McVeigh looked up and glared at Nick. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Shut your mouth, McVeigh!" Butleraza ordered. "You show respect for this man."

Nick sat on a chair and leaned forward and asked, "Why did you do it? Do you know what I fucking had to go through these past several months, McVeigh? You ruined me, man. I'll never be the same person again. I've had to go through HIV tests, and I had to go through a fucking biopsy on my liver because I had Hepatitis B. My team won't look at me the same way. I have to walk around my work wondering who knows and who doesn't. And I hurt a lot of people, including a decent woman who is simply trying to make a better life for herself and her daughter, who I might add is in therapy because of what you did."

McVeigh looked at him and responded coldly, "Because of what happened to me after I got to the prison, thanks to your fucking father. That's why I did it to you. You think you're the only one who got bent over a table and had someone's cock shoved up their ass?" Nick visibly paled upon hearing those words, while the guard ordered McVeigh to watch his damn language.

The prisoner continued, "That's what happened to me that first day, and it's all your dad's fault that happened to me."

"My dad didn't put you there to be raped, McVeigh. That was someone else's perverse decision. And I'm sorry you went through that, but that's no excuse for what you did to me or Stephanie or Conrad Noir or anyone else in your path."

"You know what, Stokes? You're one to talk. You had an easy life. You had it all, while my dad worked long hours as a CEO of a multinational corporation and came home and beat the shit of my mother every single night of the week when he wasn't beating me. Then he killed my favourite dog because it peed on the floor and no one did zilch about that. Then he molested my friggin' sister. So by the time I got to robbing houses, I was done with do-gooders. Goddamn child protection did shit to help us. The system doesn't fucking care because my daddy bought his way out of every friggin' problem he had. Where the hell was your father when it came to my dad? He got away with everything, while I got sent to jail and raped."

There was silence as Nick digested the words, and for a moment he finally understood McVeigh's mindset. He nodded and said, "You're right, McVeigh. The system let you down, and it should have helped you long before you got to the point you did."

"What you did to me is irreversible," Nick said with a steadfast look. "I have to live with your fucking choice for the rest of my life, you son of a bitch sick-faced bastard. I never did anything to you. I hardly knew you. I was…what? A few grades ahead of you?"

"Yeah, I remember you; football star, valedictorian. My dad kept saying to me, 'Why can't you be like Nicholas Stokes?' Always comparing me to you." McVeigh looked down at the floor. "I never was good enough for him."

"I'll let you in on a little secret, McVeigh. Nothing I ever did was good enough for my dad either." Nick leaned back in the chair.

"That supposed to make me feel better?" McVeigh asked with a snort.

"No, I just want you to know that when you're sitting in that jail cell for the number of years you're going to get, to remember that it wasn't easy being the 'judge's boy'."

"Well, once someone's gone and attacked you like that, you ain't the same. You move on through the food chain. Ain't that the way it's supposed to be?"

Nick reflected on his babysitter's molestation of him and simply said, "No, some people take an experience like that and use it to do good for others. Depends on the person though and how fucked up they are, and you, McVeigh, are pretty fucked up, but for a good reason. And you know…I forgive you for what you did to me. Not because I want you to be at peace for what you did, but for myself."

There was another moment of silence and a stare-down between McVeigh and Nick that would cue an orchestra to play "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly", and soon the nervous guard said, "I think it's time to end this, Stokes."

Nick looked at McVeigh and said, "Good luck. You're gonna need it." And with those words he walked away from the broken man.

The Texan looked at his friend and shook his hand. "Thanks for this."

"Anytime, but you owe me big time."

"Don't worry. I'll pay up."

The guard patted his shoulder, laughing. "So, we on for golf next week?"

"Lookin' forward to it." Nick smiled.

Nick walked away feeling a strange brew of sadness, relief, and pity. McVeigh was a monster, but he wasn't a monster created from nothing. The broken social service system of Texas, to which his own dad was a part of, had created this Frankenstein of a rapist. Grissom was right. The man long ago started a war on his father. Nick himself was just collateral damage. But not anymore.

Mandy looked up from her book and smiled. Nick was starting to like the way his mere presence lit her up like a Christmas tree.

As they walked to her car Mandy asked him, "Which was harder? Seeing Eponine or saying goodbye to her daughter?"

Nick thought about it. "It's hard when a relationship sours and a kid gets involved in it."

"Eponine is very pretty, very attractive, and very confident," Mandy said absentmindedly.

"So ask her on a date. She might say yes," Nick joked.

Mandy snorted through her nose and then the two broke into a fit of laughter. "I'm so not into that!"

"Oh really?!" Nick sighed with fake disappointment. "So I can't get any clips of you and Wendy in a Lab Girls Gone Wild video?"

"Oh, get out of here!" Mandy laughed as she turned the key in the ignition and began to pull out. "Who do you think we are, Madonna and Britney Spears?"

"Well, neither of you are old enough to be Madonna. Maybe Britney and Christina Aguillera."

"Sorry dude, ain't happening," Mandy announced. "I'm fully heterosexual. I like men and I like penises!" She quickly glanced at Nick who ducked his head shyly and she teased, "Oh now who's embarrassed?"

"I'm not embarrassed. I'm glad to hear you say you like penises. Maybe Henry will show you his."

"Pardon me?!" she asked defensively as they went into the McDonald's drive-through for some lunch.

"Yeah…you know…your mercy date with Henry." Nick grinned evilly loving the strong reaction he got from Mandy.

"That's all it was, Nick. A mercy date."

"Uh huh. Just order me my lunch woman!" He slid on his shades and watched her face contort.

"Oh no, I paid for the last one."

"Fine, I'll pay this time. Can you just order me some lunch?" He nodded at the window. "Or do I have to be like that guy on You Tube and starting rapping it?"

"Oh god, please don't!" Mandy leaned over and called the order in.

xxXXxx

At Lake Mead in a secluded area surrounded by trees and foliage, Nick spread a blanket and laid on his stomach on it and hooked his iPod to a small speaker and flicked it to Garbage's "Only Happy When It Rains".

"Gee, now there's a happy, up-beat song!" Mandy sat cross-legged beside him. "Is this telling of your current state of mind, Nick?"

"Who me?" He laid his head on his hands. "I'm not depressed."

"Not around me, but you've earned your misery, so you can pour it down on me, love." She grinned.

"Ha ha. I used to date a girl who looked like this singer."

"You?! Oh my god, you must have been the oddest couple. I picture you with cheerleaders and pin up girls, all looks and no brains. That singer has brains," Mandy said.

Nick flicked a dirty look at her and mumbled, "Oh yeah, that's right, Mandy, stereotype me."

"No, with your superhero looks," she said, "I pictured you with someone with a body like Wonder Woman."

Nick looked around at her with a quizzical expression at her description of him. "Whatever," he mumbled. "She was actually pretty cool. She was totally into animal rights and was a vegetarian, but she got some job as a human rights activist with the United Nations and we went our separate ways."

"Hmm...how old were you?"

"I don't remember. I was finishing college."

"Sounds like an odd couple you two were; a left wing nut like her with a social conservative Republican like you," Mandy quipped.

"My parents thought so," Nick agreed and placed his chin back on his hands. "They wanted me to marry some girl who was a friend of my sister, but she was so stuck up on herself I said forget it." He sat up and reached into the bag and handed Mandy her snack wrap. Then he reached in and grabbed his own and bit into it. "And who are you to get all weird about my former girlfriends, Miss Dating Henry?!"

Mandy threw him a shocked look. "It was a mercy date that was arranged while you were fraternizing with the sex therapist!" She glared at him and Nick returned with a heated look of his own, his own green demon making a sudden appearance.

Were they having a fight? "That was weeks ago and she hates my guts and you still should have run it by me first," Nick told her in a sulky tone.

"Since when do I need your permission to do anything, Nick?" Mandy huffed.

"Since…since…well…I..." He was at a loss for words.

Then Mandy brightened and teased, "You're jealous!"

"Of Henry? No, I'd just rather...you..." Nick fumbled along and then blurted it out, "I'd rather you not date anyone but me!" There. He said it.

"Really?" she said and smiled and looked away.

Nick crawled back onto his stomach and listened to the music and said, "Yeah, really."

She crawled onto her stomach beside him and took the iPod away.

"Hey!" he protested. "That's Cold Play. They've got this great song called "Cemeteries in London"…got a nice Latin beat to it."

"Uh huh...so you're finished with the sex therapist?" Mandy's face was deadly serious, her eyes clandestine. "I can see why you took to her. She exudes sexuality, like Mae West or Sophia Loren."

"She exudes a lot of things," Nick agreed, "like a major chip on her shoulder, and yes, I'm done with her. I don't think anything much started. She's a got a nice side to her, but I fucked up and she couldn't deal with it and left me in the cold," Nick said as he rolled over onto his back and stared at the sky. He was talking away, almost feeling like he was stuck in some strobe-lit moment and mimicked Mandy, saying 'sex therapist', earning a playful punch on the shoulder. "Hey! That's assault. I'm telling Brass."

"Oh, I'm so scared. He'd probably laugh at you." Mandy looked at the menu on his iPod.

"What's your deal with Eponine?" Nick asked. "I just told you what happened. She dumped my ass. I deserved it. She really kicked me to the curb, and before you say it, no, you're not a rebound." Mandy flicked a skeptical look over her glasses towards him, and he said it again, "No, you are not."

"I just don't want to get hurt again, Nick. I've had a thing for you for years and had to endure watching hours and hours of you flirting with Catherine and Mia and Sara, and I was just invisible at my compute monitor." She scrunched her mouth and looked away with tears in her eyes. "And when I told Wendy and Hodges, they just kind of gave me the 'give it up' talk. Hodges even went out and bought that book, 'He's Just Not That Into You'."

"I'm sorry it took so long for me to get my head of my ass, okay?" Nick said as he picked up her book that she'd set on the grass. He started to read it. "You're an awesome woman, and my only regret with you is that I didn't see it sooner."

"Nice analogy…out of your ass. Sounds like that stupid game you play with George when you hold him on his back with his head in one hand and his butt in the other and tell him to 'Bend over and kiss your ass goodbye!'" Mandy laughed as she turned on her side and stared at him as he scanned the book.

"He likes it!" Nick defended. "He also likes it when I spin him around on the floor in a pot!"

"I know." Mandy shook her head. "I grabbed him and took him away from you, but he jumped out of my arms and jumped right back into the pot! You need to get out more, Nick."

"Hey, I hang out with you. That's getting out, isn't it?" he asked her.

"Oh, whatever!" Mandy continued to look at his iPod menu. "Gees...all this…angst...stuff. Why don't you download that Monty Python song, 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life'?"

"No, I'd rather download the 'Lumberjack Song'…more fitting, or maybe 'Spam'." Then Nick sang, "Spam, spam, spam, spam, lovely spam!" They laughed and then he continued, "Or I could be the guy in the pet store trying to sell 'Dead Parrots', but with my luck I'd get a cow landing on me or a killer rabbit biting my balls."

Still laughing, Mandy said, "We should have a Monty Python movie night, starting with the 'Holy Grail' or watch some 'Flying Circus' and then 'Life of Brian'."

"Sounds like fun." He grabbed the iPod back and scrolled through the menu. "Aww…here's my song for you."

"You didn't download 'Mandy'?" she groaned

Instead, Nick sang along with ColdPlay's 'Yellow'. "Look at the stars, look how they shine for you and everything you do, 'cause they were all yellow." He struggled because Chris Martin could hit high pitches that Nick himself could only manage if someone gave him a major wedgie.

Mandy listened and smiled. "Yellow! That's so sweet dude!" She leaned over and listened. "There's a line in there with the L word, Nick. Is that what you're trying to tell me?" She looked at him in surprise.

"You're a smart girl, Mandy. I'll let you figure that one out yourself." Nick smiled as if he held the secret code to Fort Knox in his hand. Then he listened carefully, waiting for that cryptic line…that famous line…and sang it so quietly only a dog could pick it up. He looked sideways at Mandy to see if she picked it up. She smiled and blushed and then he said, "Hey, I was all yellow once. Maybe you should be singing this one to me."

"Oh stop it!" Mandy gave him a playful shove. "You were sick."

"I'm still sick, just not physically. I'm surprised I haven't had the men in white coats come and grab me yet."

"Give them time," she laughed.

"Well, I'm going to see my new therapist later, so maybe she'll be calling them over." Nick smiled and then asked, "Will you visit me in the rubber room?"

"I don't know. The sex might be awkward with you in that jacket." Mandy shrugged and then muttered, "Miss sex therapist could probably manage it."

"Oh Mandy," Nick groaned in a sing song voice, "try to get past this Eponine thing you have going. Did you see the way she looked at me? I've had murder suspects look at me with more compassion."

"Yeah, and that's because she's mad at herself for dumping you but can't bring herself to say otherwise." Mandy explained the psychology of women to him.

"There was nothing to dump. It was just..." Nick trailed off and then said, "She's a part of my past that I'm trying to leave behind. When I think of her, I think of McVeigh, and the two are so closely related that it would not have worked out."

"So how was it seeing McVeigh?" Mandy asked.

Nick placed his chin in his hand and reflected before answering, "It was a rather surreal experience. In court, I didn't buy his apology, of course. But when I asked him why he did it and he gave me the answer, I realized what a pathetic human being he was, and a small part of me felt sorry for him."

"Oh my God, after what he did to you?" Mandy's jaw dropped.

"Sometimes people are born evil and others are made evil. I sometimes think that if society finally became a peaceful place, I'd happily lose my job." Nick lifted his head and stared at Mandy's surprised face, and then rolled over on his side to face her.

"You, sir, are a beautiful man." The lab tech leaned over and pressed her forehead gently against his and he returned the gesture with a quick kiss on her lips, surprising her. There had not been any intimacy in the weeks they'd been 'hanging out' other than hugs, cuddles, and hand holding…discreetly. At the lab it was all business, although not much went amiss there. The looks and smiles and Nick's extra long breaks in the print lab fueled the gossip chain quite well.

"Does that chase the green demon away?" he asked when they were done

Mandy was blushing, her heart running as fast as a cheetah, and then returned the kiss with one of her own and mumbled, "Somewhat!" Then with a sigh she caressed the side of his face, her fingers trailing along his lips, drinking in his good looks. She traced the laugh lines and drank in those beautiful but sad eyes.

"I really like this song," Nick said, breaking the silence, his voice sounding slightly edgy. "It's by Crowded House, called 'Pour Le Monde', meaning 'for the world'. He sings, 'pour le monde, pa pour le gurre - for the world, not for war'."

"Ohh, you sound very sexy when you speak French, Monsieur Stokes," Mandy cooed.

"Do I now?"

"Say something else in French?"

In husky voice he drawled, "Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"

Mandy blushed and asked, "You mean that?"

"Oui!"

"Mais oui!" she answered.

Since they had picked a spot away from the crowds, Nick felt no shyness in reaching over and pulling her closer to him, kissing her more intensely and pushing aside those old voices, old memories, and old demons. She opened her mouth and soon their tongues were entwined.

Mandy's mind was doing a happy skip like Dorothy down the Yellow Brick Road, and she slid her hand down the side of his face, tracing his chin, and then down his neck, unbuttoning his dress shirt (the tie long ago having been taken off). Then she slid her hand in, sliding it along his chest.

His own hand, meanwhile, had slid inside the slit of her skirt and was tracing the inside of her thigh. The feeling hit her loins like mad while her hand slid up and down tracing his chest, longing to open more buttons and other items of clothing. Before they were charged with public lewdness or mischief or other behaviour that could get them fined and fired! She pulled away and whispered in a strained voice, "At my house or your house tonight?"

"My place," he told her, his voice sounding tight as he regrouped himself, grateful that Mandy had the strength to halt the action. "I'll cook dinner."

"I'll bring some movies or something."

"Sure…" Nick said, his eyes wide, the seductive look gone.

"What's wrong?" Mandy asked, concerned.

"Nothing. I'm...fine." He smiled.

"Are you worried about…?" She didn't finish because he got the drift.

"Sort of. Just...flashbacks…and intrusive thoughts. John Nash wasn't raped, so I don't think it will be that easy for me to ignore them. I can't promise a trip to the moon is all I'm saying," he said to her.

Mandy smiled warmly at him and told the jittery man, "The night after you testified and I went to your room…lying next to you was a friggin' orgasm unto its own, Nick." He smiled upon hearing that. "Just hanging out with you is an orgasm. Even if we just hang out at your place in the total nude or clothes or dressed liked ancient Romans, that would be fine with me. Okay?"

Nick's face went crimson and he replied with a surprised smiled, "Toga party. Sounds like a blast!"

They laughed heartily until Mandy heard her cell phone beep. She pulled it out and groaned, "Oh God, the lab." She answered it and then nodded. "Fine, I'll be in." She looked up. "Trainee…still confused about some stuff."

"We were all there once," Nick said, sitting up and clicking off the iPod.

"Yeah, I know. It's hard to do your own job when you're trying to train someone else." She sat up and together they stood up as Nick helped her to her feet and they gathered up the blanket, the iPod, and the remainders of their food. She dropped Nick off at home, enjoying another kiss and said she'd see him tonight. Then as she drove away she picked up her cell and called Wendy and told her plans.

"I don't know what I'm going to wear!" she said. Her heart was racing at the speed of light.

"You're spending a romantic night with Nick Stokes. I don't think clothes will be needed," Wendy quipped, sounding honestly happy for her buddy.

Mandy didn't say anything. Wendy didn't know Nick's secrets and never would.

"Still, I'd like to look reasonably good. Wanna hit the mall? I just gotta help the trainee with the new AccuTran."

"Yes ma'am. I'm almost done here. Just helping out," Wendy said as she sat across from Hodges in the break room, checking out the latest game he had built. As she flipped off her phone, she leaned over, grabbed the tech by the collar, and hoisted him to her face saying in a menacing tone, "One word to anyone, big mouth, and I'll castrate you!"

Hodges sat back shocked and then smiled. "I love it when you're rough!"

Wendy groaned, got up from the table, and walked out of the room.

xxXXxx

"So, Nick," Dr. Marsmann said, "you've testified and then you went to the kidnapping trial."

"Yeah." The Texan sat in a grey, leather, wingback chair and stared around the room decorated with ceiling high ferns and a tiny fountain. Pictures of her family were on the walls alongside awards, degrees, and other notable events in her life. A side table held a copy of her latest book, _Surviving Sexual Assault-A Guide to Reclaiming Your Life. _ The therapist's office was located in a Wellness Centre - a centre complete with physicians, acupuncturists, and massage therapists.

Dr. Joan Marsmann specialized in sexual assault recovery for adult men and women, both singles and couples. Upon their first appointment, Nick felt an instant rapport with her. She was warm and definitely a good listener, whereas the department issued one talked a bit too much for his liking and then asked if she could take over his case entirely. After cutting some red tape, an agreement was arranged where monthly reports would be shared with the LVDP therapist on his progress, but Dr. Marsmann would be his main therapist. Nick also liked it that she was outside of the lab entirely, increasing the comfort level of sharing the more intimate details of his life.

Payment for services came courtesy of the Nevada State Corrections Department who contacted Nick and arranged for a hasty settlement after Nick's lawyer (a friend of Maddie Klein's) threatened them with a lawsuit.

It wasn't a huge amount of money, but Nick figured an ongoing fight would result in hefty legal bills, so the less time in court, the more money he would get and the less money the lawyer would get. So he invested some and donated some to the local humane society. On top of the settlement, they agreed to pay for his therapy sessions, all medical expenses (his health insurance carrier was quite pleased about that), and any future medical expenses resulting from the attack in case his last HIV Test came back positive. Nick didn't even want to entertain the thought. Neither attacker was infected, but that didn't mean it wasn't lying dormant somewhere in their systems. That last test hung around like a dark cloud ready to rain on his current parade, which was quite good all things considered.

The Texan gave Dr. Marsmann the current status of his team's current way of dealing with him.

Warrick was trying hard to continue their friendship. Greg was still cold as ice. Catherine, however, despite reeling from the testimony he gave, was now very protective of him and did not allow him to go to any crime scene alone, or if he did, she'd be there checking up on him in the guise of 'assisting him'. Warrick, in fact, was starting to do the same thing which was driving Nick up the wall.

Grissom treated him pretty much the same as Catherine, although not as much hovering. The bugman knew nothing of the details of his attack, not having seen the video out of respect for the Texan, which he appreciated. His boss knew enough details already.

"Well," the doctor sighed, "time will tell whether or not these guys are truly your friends or just workmates. You can't control their behaviour. You just have to learn new ways of coping with everything. Then you can simply categorize your relationships with them. Some will be friends and some will simply be colleagues and nothing more."

"Yeah, that's probably best," Nick said with a deep sigh. "I just thought they were all my friends. Greg looks at me like I'm just slime now. Warrick has this restraint on him like he's afraid to say the wrong thing. At least Brass said something."

"Its amazing how society treats men like yourself. It's sad, and one of the reasons that only 4 per cent of men report attacks like yours." She smiled sympathetically.

Nick smiled slightly and said, "Yeah, guess I'm in the minority."

"A very brave minority. Even though it took some remarkable people to help you and some to even force you, in the end it was you who made the choice to testify."

Then he shared his one on one encounter with McVeigh.

"How did that make you feel?" she asked.

"You know, I still have nightmares and flashbacks, but they don't rattle me like they used to. Not as much. And I don't hear his voice in my head as much as I used to," Nick told her. "And after today, I think it'll happen even less. He's a sorry excuse for a human being."

The therapist smiled and laugh lines crinkled around her blue eyes as she jotted notes down and then asked, "Still having those dark moments?"

He shook his head. "Not as much. I just work through them."

"Are you doing anything outside of work to relieve stress?"

"I walk dogs at the local humane society," Nick responded and noticed the surprised look on Dr. Marsmann's face. "The staff likes me there. They give me the crazy ones, and now I'm the local dog whisperer. All I need is a Mexican accent. They give me the real bad ass dogs to walk, thinking I can tame them. It's not that hard, you just gotta be." Nick grinned and tried to imitate Ceasar Milan, "You gotta lettam know you dah pack leader, you gotta give calm..energy..and...no look..no..talk..no..touch!"

The therapist laughed quietly

"So when you're having these dark moments, Nick, what are you thinking about? What goes through your mind?"

"Just…a lot of…guilt because I can't believe I got to that point where I wanted to kill another person. That's not me at all," Nick said. He leaned back and stared at the stained glass picture of an African Grey parrot hanging in the window of her office. "I think what really still gets to me is not so much the rage I felt, but what the rage did to me. After that day, I just wanted nothing more than to kill McVeigh…wipe him off the face of the earth. And that scares me that I even have the feeling within me to kill."

"Revenge is a natural emotion, Nick, and the adrenaline that comes from rage can immobilize the part of our brain that deals with logic or reasoning. We all have the potential to kill, Nick"

"I just hated the way I felt afterwards. I felt like garbage…weak…like nothing, and I wanted to find a way to get part of me back, and the only way I felt I could do it was to finish them off."

"Sexual violence is the most degrading, sadistic, inhuman experience that one can go through," Dr. Marssman told him, her blue eyes staring at him solemnly to emphasize her point.

"But I'm a guy. I should have fought back a lot harder, but he had a chokehold on me. They had a gun on me," Nick told her, rubbing his face and shaking his head. "A lot of good those self-defense classes did me."

"You were outnumbered, it was dark, it was chaotic, and again I repeat that there were two of them. Even if there was only one, once that person overpowered you there was little you could do to stop them. Even if McVeigh was a skinny, little man, he had a weapon and at that point all you could hope for was survival."

"No, after...once...he…did his bit with me, I didn't want to live. I just wanted to die." Nick's voice trailed off and he stared off into space.

"Do you still feel that way?"

"Some days…usually when I wake up before my shift I feel like that. I have to go in and face my team, one of whom knows the gory details, and then I walk around wondering who knows what and how much and if it's going to get back to someone." Nick cleared his throat and continued, "Anytime someone treats me a certain way, I automatically think 'oh fuck, they know' and I start to get anxious. Even if it's not the case, I still think they know. My parents still don't know." He looked back down and twisted the ring on his finger.

"Why?"

"My dad is a judge in Texas, and if he knew he'd never, ever look at me the same way. He'd always find a way to blame me. Even when I was buried alive, he found some way to blame me for it. I wasn't being careful or something. Can you imagine what he'd say if he knew about this?"

Dr. Marssmann sighed. "Does he need to know?"

Nick shook his head. "No, he doesn't, and I don't want him to ever find out."

"Then that's fine," she agreed. "He never has to know. What would be the point if it's going to hurt your relationship with him?"

"No point," Nick answered. "None at all."

xxXXxx

Judge Stokes strolled into his office after another grueling day of dealing with constitutional mayhem. He wearily hung his long, black robe on a hook behind the door and then peeked out.

"Meghan, do you have the mail?"

"Yes, actually, Judge Stokes, I do."

Sometimes he wondered if he was better off being a local judge. He sat down wearily as a stack of letters waited for him. Obviously, they were safe. Security had run them, checking for anthrax and whatever goodies his enemies had in store for him. Then one caught his attention. For one thing it was not addressed in print form, it was handwritten. Then his eye caught the postmark and he realized it was from Nevada. Other than a few judges and his son, who usually phoned or e-mailed him - whenever he bothered to - he knew no one of a personal nature in that state.

Clearing his throat, he studied the return address: "High State Desert Prison". He was about to open it when his secretary knocked and through the door told him that there was an emergency hearing regarding a gun law that needed to be attended to as the sitting judge had taken ill.

Judge Stokes set the envelope aside, slid his robe back on, and headed out of his chambers.

_A/N: I know nothing of Nevada state law and simply made up everything._

_**Next up, my favourite chapter! I had a blast writing that one-warning-must be 18 or at least educated in the fine art of S-E-X!!**_

_**I'm sorry this was so long, but I needed to set some plot lines in motion and complete others.**_

_**George Eads fans will know the meaning of Nick saying he wouldn't do red carpets!!**_


	17. Chapter 17

IRREVERSIBLE

CHAPTER 17

_All my lovers were there with me  
All my past and futures  
And we all went to heaven in a little row boat  
There was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt_

_Pyramid Song-Radiohead_

_THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M!_

_Dual POVs. I couldn't decide whose view should reign, so I paired-hope you all are okay with it. _

_Hope it is all smutty enough for you!! And you are all welcome to put yourself in Mandy's place when you read this._

_Thanks to Smokey for her encouragement and her edits!!_

Mandy leaned on the counter and watched Nick's hand shake as he flipped the burgers he was grilling.

"My freezer broke," he explained, his eyes darting about nervously almost in ADHD-like fashion. One minute he flipped the burgers, the next he was setting the table, and the next he was cutting vegetables. Mandy was almost dizzy watching him scurrying about like a Tasmanian devil.

"My…the...steaks…I…b…b…bought were...uh...ruined...so Mrs. Mathews loaned me her electronic cooler and now...everything is in there," he stammered as his heart leapt about like a hip-hop dancer.

"I like burgers," she reassured him and then asked if she could help, but he told her he was fine.

The lab tech smiled and walked around the living room, watching as George played on the most elaborate scratching post she'd ever seen. It was shaped in the form of a tree house with toys dangling here and there. The trunk was brown carpet, while the house was a royal shade of green.

"That's a pretty neat scratching post," she told Nick who looked up and nodded.

"I built that one for him. The real ones are friggin' expensive." Nick responded as he went back to setting the table.

"I didn't know you could build things," she remarked, impressed.

"Yeah, I've been doing some things to alleviate stress. My therapist told me to try to redirect my focus constructively. My concentration hasn't been great, so building and drawing has been doing the trick.

"You draw too?" she remarked in surprise and then noticed the sketching pad on the table along with an art book with a snow oil on the front. She went over to look at it.

Penciled drawings of George in various poses filled the pages; George sleeping, George looking out the window, George with a sock in his mouth. Nick had even managed to capture the deranged look in his eyes whenever he captured some 'prey'. Even the striped patterns, complete with the rings on the kitty's tail, were detailed. Impressive!

"These are beautiful, Nick!" Mandy exclaimed.

"He's kind of my subject matter at this point," Nick explained, embarrassed and hoping Mandy wasn't thinking he was developing an absurd obsession with his cat. "I take his photo with my digital camera and then I draw from it. I'm hoping to branch out. I like drawing animals. I got this book of paintings by this Canadian artist named Robert Bateman. Man, they're realistic. That's what he does. He takes the animal's picture and then goes from there. I like drawing comics and stuff too."

"Wow, there's more to you than sports and women. I always knew that."

"Yeah, but I keep a lot of stuff hidden from people." He shrugged before clasping his hands together and rushing back into the kitchen.

"Why?" She set the pad down on the coffee table next to a very interesting looking chess set with glass pieces, noticing that some were nicked.

"I don't know. Just like it that way is all." Nick smiled at her as she walked back into the kitchen and told him she'd cut some vegetables up for their salad and slid them into the colander to rinse and drain with water. "Let me go get these on the table," he said as he picked up a plate of sliced dill pickles.

He had recently gotten his hair trimmed, and his skin seemed to be going back to normal, although close up Mandy could see a small tinge of yellow. His doctors had told him that it would be months before he'd be fully recovered. However, he looked so gorgeous tonight that it was taking every bit of emotional, mental, and physical strength on her part to restrain herself from grabbing him and pushing him up against the wall and doing all sorts of naughty things to him, his red Ralph Lauren shirt meeting an untimely shredded death and that slim brown belt on him flung across the room.

She had made him wait weeks. That, for her, was unusual, but the duality of the recent traumas had required it, not just for him but for her. Mandy's encounter with the seductive Eponine had shaken her fragile self-esteem somewhat. That lady was a very sexy woman. And since then Mandy had found herself battling intrusive thoughts of Nick and that…woman...in the sack.

While at the mall, she and Wendy had run into Catherine Willows who was at the same lingerie shop as the one the DNA tech had dragged Mandy into.

"_Well!" Catherine said, eyes amused, "I think I know why you two are here. Hodges and you finally taking the big step?" _

_She eyed Wendy who balked, "Oh god no!!"_

_The blonde criminalist then turned her focus on Mandy who pretended to be studying a pair of slippers to avoid the knowing gaze, but the heat of it caused the lab tech to look up with a blush._

"_Oh I see." Catherine stepped over and hooked Mandy by the arm, then escorted her over to some very classy looking bras and panties. Not the slut stuff that was sold in the sex stores she and Nick had gone into - on a dare...double, triple dare...and then spent the whole time figuring out what kind of blow up doll to stick in Hodges' locker - Nick's idea, of course. _

_Wendy said she wanted to check out the bookstore, sensing that the criminalist wanted to have a woman to woman talk._

"_So what are the nerves all about?" Catherine asked her, holding up a scanty, red brazier which was met with a nay. "I mean, you two already had a near romp in the sack. It's not like you've not been intimate with the guy."_

"_It's not about me," Mandy told her as she saw a lovely black lace one with diamond-like jewels embedded in the middle, "it's about her."_

"_Her who?" Catherine asked quizzically._

"_Trailer park sex therapist!" Mandy spit out the words dramatically and then held up a white one – purity – nope…deceitful._

"_Oh, her." Catherine nodded and showed her another black one. "He likes black lace."_

_Mandy flicked a quizzical look at her and Catherine said, "No, I didn't sleep with him, Mandy. I've known him since he was a bright-eyed eager pup when he joined the lab. You learn things about your colleagues every now and then, not by what they tell you but through the things they say when you're going through a crime scene." She held up another sheer, lacey thing and held it against Mandy with a studious gaze._

"_Yeah, I bet she had a gazillion of those things."_

_Catherine raised her eyebrows and then picked another one out and held it against Mandy. "I didn't really get a chance to talk much to her, Mandy, but she certainly stomped all over the guy when he least needed it. She was justifiably angry with him, but even after the lengths he went to to bring her daughter back, there was no understanding and no forgiveness on her part despite the fact that she knew what he'd gone through. There was just a bitterness and anger on her part because she was quick to lump Nick into a category that belonged to an evil ex-husband. I don't know if I would have felt that way if it were me, but as Nick's friend it was awful to watch," Catherine said sadly. "I was there, and all I wanted to do was throttle her."_

_Mandy studied another black bra as she listened to Catherine who held another classy, lacey bra, one that would exude cleavage. "Look, she's a part of his past. She's not here and you are! Now try this one on and then I'll take you somewhere that will really light up your night and make your Texan boy's eyes pop out of his sockets."_

Nick looked over at Mandy and could see she was in deep thought as she leaned against the counter watching him cook. She looked great in her blue blouse, belt around her waist, and tight-fitting jeans. Without her glasses, he noticed that she had what was referred to as 'bedroom' eyes. Sultry, dreamy, almost seductive and definitely coincided with a mouth so full and so luscious he could kiss her all day if it didn't interfere with his breathing.

He quickly went over to the stereo and scanned through his CDs and said, "I've got Radiohead, uh…ColdPlay, U2, Red Hot Chili Peppers, country…umm…some Muse, Nine Inch Nails."

"Whatever you want, Nick," Mandy told him. "I'm not picky."

Nick picked up Radiohead's greatest hits CD and figured for Mandy it was a safe choice. He looked at their latest one, "Rainbows", and his mind went back momentarily.

_Nausea. Yelling at Greg to stop the damn car._

He willed himself to snap out of it. Enough!

Dr. Marsmann had talked at great length with him today about this night, in fact for about two hours more than her normal one hour session.

"_Take it slow, do what you're comfortable with, and open up to your partner about what your limits are."_

So he knew a couple of things…that he wanted to be with this woman tonight and he wanted to enjoy himself and for her to enjoy herself, but if the anatomy stayed in the bleachers, she already had indicated that if not tonight then another night. So why were his hands shaking so badly that his ring looked like it was going to go flying off onto the floor where George would pounce on it eagerly thinking this was just the shiniest toy Nick had ever given him!

As Radiohead's wonk-eyed singer began to sing about "doing to yourself, just you," Nick rushed back into the kitchen where Mandy had begun to cut some vegetables for their dinner and grabbed the plate of pickles.

"Nick, put the plate down before you drop it. Why are so nervous?" Mandy reached over and pressed his hand. "We don't have to do anything tonight. I mean, we talked about it and I'm okay with just hanging out."

"I know. I'm fine. I'm sure everything will be okay," answered Nick gruffly. He started to carry the plate of pickles he'd spread out and was about to head out the door when the plate slid of out his trembling hand and crashed to the floor. Dish and pickles went everywhere.

Mandy stepped over and knelt down to help him pick the mess up while he cursed slightly. "Gotta be careful with what gets dropped on the floor or the four-legged vacuum cleaner will eat it and then I'll be stuck giving him Kaopectate for a week," he mumbled, angry with himself for being a major klutz. What the fuck was wrong with him? How many women have been in this house and he did just fine and now he was acting like a buffoon.

"Like his owner!" Mandy nervously laughed, kneeling down, and then started to help him clean up the mess. Suddenly she cried out as a plate shard sliced her index finger.

"Oh damn!" Nick sighed. The evening was officially ruined. Dammit!

"It's not bleeding too heavily." She grabbed some paper towels off the counter and wrapped it up.

"Yeah, but we've still gotta clean it. I've got some stuff in the bathroom." He quickly gathered up the rest of the pieces and threw them in the trash, turned off the grill, and assisted Mandy to the bathroom.

As they passed by his bedroom, Mandy cast a glance, stopped, and said, "Wow! You are so romantic!" She stepped in and saw the candles and flowers in vases adorning what normally would pass for a masculine bedroom of grey and black.

She looked back at him and saw his shoulders slumped in disappointment at his surprise being given away. He sighed and said, "Yeah, nothing major, just…I don't know…I used to be pretty romantic and now I'm just a…a bit of ...a weirdo. Let's get that cut looked at."

"You're a sweetie for doing all that." She kissed him on the cheek and they went into his bathroom.

She leaned against the counter while he opened his medicine cabinet and brought out the antiseptic spray and Band-Aids, setting them on the counter as he griped, "Now it's ruined. It was supposed to be a surprise _after _dinner, not before. First my freezer, now this broken plate and cut finger… I give up." He washed the cut gently with soap and water and then picked up the spray.

"It's not ruined…more like a sneak preview!" she consoled him as she felt the sting of the spray on her cut

"I don't think you'll need stitches. It's a pretty small cut," he said as he applied a Band-Aid around her injured finger before lifting it to his lips and kissing it. "Better?" His eyes twinkled at her.

She smiled, warmly, at the TLC he gave the very small cut on her finger and answered softly, "Yep, and I'm so glad to be here, dude!"

"I'm glad you are too." He took both her hands and squeezed them while "Karma Police" came on. Nick smiled. "I like this song. It makes me think of Ecklie!"

"Oh yeah, so are gonna run him over with your car like in the video?" Mandy asked in instant recognition.

"No. I had a dream once about trying to run Grissom over with my car, but like the video he set fire to it. Fucking guy outsmarts me even in my damn dreams!" Nick sighed somberly and then smirked while Mandy looked down and back up at him and finally…finally they were able to make eye contact. Brown eyes to brown eyes - one set was filled with haunted memories and ghosts while the other was filled with love and adoration for him with an optimism of her own that was contagious. Life threw many lemons at Mandy Webster, but her humour and her happy-go-lucky attitude got her through them.

For most of the evening since her arrival, eye contact had been avoided as if either feared what would happen if it was made. Neither was sure why the tension was there, but all Mandy knew was that she couldn't deny herself anymore. She'd made him sit on the sidelines for weeks giving him time to deal with the loss of his sex therapist tryst and with his testimony against McVeigh.

Anxiety, sexual tension, and fear reigned as Mandy stroked his face and looked into his dark eyes longingly. She slid her hands down the sides of his face and leaned over to kiss him deeply on the lips, then moved her lips along his jaw line, stopping to ask if he was okay with this. He answered, "Yes, I'm okay with this."

Kissing her again on that worshipped, luscious mouth, Nick brought his fingers up to the buttons on her blouse and slowly unbuttoned one and then another, smiling through his kisses as he undid the chain around her waist. Then upon the last button he slid the blouse off her shoulders and tossed it to the counter, standing back to admire the view under it.

"Very nice." He traced the very expensive lingerie with a finger, delighting in the instant goose bump reaction. Looking at the black laced bra he said, "I heard you and Wendy did some shopping."

"Hodges!" Mandy groaned.

"No, actually it was Catherine whom you met up with at the mall." His fingers trailed down the front clasp. "I'm flattered. You didn't have to go through that for me."

"I just wanted the evening to be nice and perfect…well, if not perfect, memorable." She leaned in and moved her mouth along his neck and across his collarbone above the neckline of his shirt and back up to his mouth.

"Memorable is a reasonable goal," he answered, his skin quivering at the touch of her skin along the outline of the lace bra.

She pulled back from the kiss gently while placing her hands on the waist of his pants, tugging the shirt out of them as she grunted, "I always liked the days when you took your shirt off, like the time your truck got stolen and there was blood on your shirt. Wish it had been me who cut off that shirt off. " She lifted the shirt up and over his head and tossed it onto the same spot as her shirt. She placed her hands on his chest, admiring its smoothness - not that she minded a hairy chest, but she liked the smoothness of this one.

"Hey, you're getting the fully monty tonight," he said with a wink, but his expression changed slightly.

Concerned, Mandy noticed the muscles in his arms tensing and looked up wondering if it was a good thing or a bad thing. His face wore a mixed expression of desire and fear. "Do you want to stop?" Mandy asked, hoping like hell he wouldn't say 'yes' as her fingers ran along his chest, grazing his nipples, and then down his stomach. She wrapped her arms around his waist and drew him close again, loving the feel of his warm skin against hers. "We can just go back and eat dinner. I brought 'Monty Python's Holy Grail' over." Her voice shook as she spoke, praying for success but preparing for an alternative evening.

Nick gently withdrew from the loving embraced, pressed his forehead against hers, eyes piercing hers and whispered, "No, I'm okay." He took a deep breath and ran his hands up and down the smooth skin of her arms and kissed her again, sucking the bottom of her lip and working on the clasp of her bra. He swiftly undid it and slid it slowly down her arms, listening to her breath hitch at the slow, gingerly way he slipped it down the front of her arms before it joined the growing pile of clothes.

His hands moved down to her bottom, cupped them and lifted her onto his bathroom counter. Taking his cue, she arched back as he brought his lips down to one of her chocolate-coloured nipples which were perked up and calling to him, almost begging him for attention.

Mandy ran her hands through his scalp as the sensations of the attention sent currents to her loins, warming her up. Her legs, still clad in their jeans, wrapped themselves around his legs. Her feet ran up and down and up and down his calves.

They parted reluctantly as her hands went down to his belt. She slowly started undoing it, studying his reaction, when she felt him start to tremble and she stopped.

"You wanna do it yourself?" she asked him softly. "I understand if you do."

"I just wanna relax!" he griped. He couldn't fucking help it. He could hear McVeigh's voice whispering in his head; from all kinds of words from the attack in the prison to the way he tauntingly told him that he wasn't the only one who 'had been bent over a table with a cock shoved up his ass'. Every time Nick felt he had taken two steps forward, something or someone would yank him five steps back. Why did he continue to move on with his life?

Mandy scrunched her nose trying to think of something to help him when she eyed the bathtub. Nick followed her gaze and smiled back at her.

"That is a cool bathtub. I hardly ever see those around. Do you use it much?" she exclaimed.

His bathtub was the old fashion kind with feet and a deep basin. He rarely used it, but when he did it was nice to stretch out and relax with a beer in tow. Mandy slid off the counter, walked over to it, and turned on the taps. The water rumbled through the old pipes of the old house that had been renovated.

Watching her work the taps, an intrusive thought invaded Nick sending him back down the horror of memory lane.

_He stared at the pocket knife and thought about how men rarely slash their wrists. They use guns more to off themselves. He held it at his wrist. One swift slice and it would all be over. He wouldn't throw the knife away like the last time. He'd finish the job and the pain would finally go away. Then he wouldn't have to go into work the next day and face everyone. He didn't want to go back to work. He didn't want to testify. This was the best solution. For everyone, really. No one would miss him anyway._

_He pressed the blade in and was fascinated by the sight of blood trickling down his arm. He thought to himself, "This is the way Nick Stokes ends, not with a bang but a whisper." For a moment he could hear kids dancing around him and singing it with Stephanie in the lead. The trickles of blood dropped into the water. He was groggy with the Trazadone he'd taken earlier, hoping he'd fall asleep in the tub while he bled. He was about to dig deeper, oblivious to the pain._

_A soft meow interrupted his dark reverie, and Nick looked up to see George poking his head over the side with such love in his feline face. Tears sprung to his eyes and with a deep sigh he closed the blade and placed it on the toilet. He wrapped the superfluous cut with a cloth, immediately took care of the cut, and then called the department psychologist on her emergency line. After a long, deep talk, she ordered him to come in first thing in the morning._

_That was the last time he allowed such a thought to overpower him again._

Maybe he was doing better than he thought? He stopped. He asked for help-a rarity on his part.

"Nick, are you okay?" Mandy asked as she poured some bubble bath (supplied by Catherine Willows) into the tub after getting a couple of extra candles and holders, setting them up in the bathroom and lighting them, while he stood there, hands shoved into his pockets.

"I haven't used it in a while," he finally answered, looking at her nervously.

"Do you want to do something else?" she asked again sadly, not for herself, but for him. She turned towards the tub, but then she felt him walk up behind her, grasp her by the waist, and pull her tightly against him.

He kissed the back of her neck, sucking gently on it. He'd be damned if he allowed sickos and bitter ex-girlfriends to ruin another night.

Mandy felt her spine tingling with the warmth of his lips and breath. Her desire was starting to kindle as Radiohead sang their favourite tune, "Creep", often arguing about who the weirdo was, who the creep was, and who was more 'fucking special' of the two. She leaned her head back onto his shoulder, listening to his breathing, and then she mumbled, "Get into the tub, Mr. Stokes."

"Ladies first," he returned as his hands worked on her jeans, unclasping the button, pulling the fly down, and then sliding his hands inside and teasing her with his fingers.

Her knees weakened, and she was glad he was behind her. She was right about those hands giving her a most intense orgasm, although now they were only teasing and tormenting… promising.

If nothing else happened, this would be enough. That one night they were nearly together she had fantasized about those hands, and now the fantasy was playing itself out. They were deep inside her jeans, probing and stroking, driving her crazy. They trailed the sensitive spot on her, and she had to lean into him to keep from falling and then she eyed the tub and said, "Before it overflows, get in there."

She felt his hands on her jeans again, pushing them down as he answered, "Go on in. I'll join you."

"No, no, no," she argued, "you first, please."

He sighed, "Alright," and then eyed her with a devilish twinkle in his eye as he tried to step in with his jeans on.

"Hey wait!" she called in mock exasperation. "I think you need to take something else off."

"Oh yeah," he said, playing dumb. "Yeah, I guess these need to go too."

"Want some help?" She then realized that her own pants were resting at her ankles and stepped out of them.

"So that bra had a friend with it?" he answered as he slid the belt out of his pants.

Mandy held her arms around her chest, suddenly embarrassed. The bra did have a friend… a black lacey thong. She was normally a boy short girl or bikini and was not used to attire that was very uncomfortable and scratchy. With a devilish grin she placed her thumbs into the side and slid them slowly down, hips swaying side to side while he watched. Once they were off she kicked them to the side and sang, "Ta dah!!"

Nick chuckled. "Funny! Maybe Striperama could use you. Catherine could teach you some moves."

She strolled towards him smiling crookedly and told him saucily, "I only do private shows for you," while she threw her arms around his waist and kissed him, pulling on his buckle. He gently took her hands away and kissed them so as not to offend her.

"Glad to hear it," he said.

Mandy looked back at the tub, filled with bubbles brewing on the top and asked, "Well, you going in?"

"After you!" he told her.

"No. After you," she said. "Age before beauty!"

"You sayin' I'm old?!"

"No, the older and wiser of us must go in and test the waters...like a brave, gallant knight."

"Oh, please. I'm Sir Robin of the Holy Grail who wets his pants in danger!" Nick scoffed.

"Oh stop it!" she told him. "Now get in."

"No, you get in and I'll join you."

"Chicken shit!" She laughed.

"Am not!" Nick whined.

"Dare, double, dare! Triple dare!" she told him.

"Triple dare…that's what got me to buy the blow up doll at the sex store!" Nick said as he undid his belt. "Guy thought I was a run of the mill pervert until you came over and approved the choice of a Barbara Blondie Blow Up Doll. Then he thought we were just twisted fucks!"

"Yeah, I wonder what Hodges is doing right now!" Mandy laughed. "I asked Wendy to be there with her cell phone camera ready!"

"Well, Warrick and I squashed it into his locker real good. Then Grissom came in and asked what we were up to. We tried to look as innocent as possible, but the guy knew we were up to something." Nick started to unbutton his pants, glad for the playful humour that created a comfortable atmosphere, one which served to combat any intrusive thoughts which had no place here tonight. It was their night.

He slid his jeans down while Mandy watched, and then he was there in his black jockeys feeling like he was 12 and changing in the boys' room for gym, scrawny little body and all. Nick was a scrawny, bony wisp of a boy who blossomed slightly late. Still the embarrassment stayed, and he had memories of his brother warning everyone to tie a rock to Nick or he'd blow away if a good gust of wind came along.

She smiled at him. "I'll get in the tub, and I'll turn my head if it makes you feel better."

She sauntered away while Nick checked out the view from behind and told her, "Y'all got a nice trunk there."

"Try to stop talking that stupid talk!" she laughed as she stepped in and covered her face.

"No peeking!" he called as he took off his jockeys and walked over. He saw a grin break out as two fingers parted and a brown eye peeked through. "Cheater!!" he called to her.

She slid back, eyes still covered. "You're in front."

"No, you are!"

"Nope, it's my job to help you relax. Now quit stalling or I'll drag you in."

"That might be fun!" he said as he climbed in and thought for sure he'd squash the poor girl, but they managed as she hooked her legs around his waist and pulled him up to her. With a washcloth she'd taken off the shelf over the toilet, she dipped in the suds and began to scrub his back slowly and methodically.

"You certainly know how to treat a man well," he told her softly.

"No, just you. You're special." She kissed him on the shoulder.

"No, I'm not. Just ordinary. I'm a creep, like that song goes. Oh Mandy," he began to sing, "you came...and well…you're so fucking special…so fucking special...'cause I'm a creep…I'm a weirdo," Nick sang on.

Mandy laughed, "Oh god, now that would be a hell of a mix...Barry Manilow and Radiohead."

"I'll get Greg on it."

Mandy wrapped her hands around his waist. "You're so fucking special, not to mention fucking gorgeous...fuckable gorgeous."

"Hmm...never heard fuckable. Is that a word?" Nick mumbled.

"I just made it up...or heard it. You are fuckable though."

"I'm fuckable. That's one word I've never heard before…guess I've been called worse."

"Yeah, I know." She leaned her chin on his shoulder. The bubble bath smelled so good…like strawberries, and he smelled so damn good that they'd make love in the tub if he'd be okay with it.

Mandy was on a teeter-totter of emotions. One minute she was seductive, the next she was shy, and then her quirky humour shone through the hesitant moments. It certainly was making the evening interesting for Nick who was on a rollercoaster of emotions himself…freaking nervous one minute, horny the next, and then freaking nervous again.

His nerves were settling and his body responded gleefully to the way she rubbed and kissed his back, each response sending signals to his libido who poked its head out from the cave wondering if the signals were nothing more then cave paintings or was this attention the real thing? Was it okay to come out now? It really, really wanted to.

"You're quiet," she mumbled, thinking this was surely heaven. The room smelled like strawberries, the music was pretty good, and she was naked in a bathtub with the most gorgeous man she'd ever met and soon would be rolling around in bed with him, hopefully with him inside her. The thought made her loins sing.

"Just thinking," Nick said, giving himself a proverbial kick for not noticing this sweet gal earlier.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"I don't mean to bring this up, but I'm glad I didn't go through with my plan to…you know…off McVeigh."

"So am I," she said, bringing her arms around his front and holding him tightly, her chin on his shoulders, hoping this night would go on forever and ever. If a meteor hit the earth and blew it up, that would be fine.

"If I had gone through with it, I'd be in jail by now."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't, Nick, because I'd have to make conjugal visits and that wouldn't be fun."

"I think a conjugal visit in the trailer would be a blast," he laughed.

"That orange suit would look so sexy on you," she whispered. "I'd unzip it and push you down on the cot and have my way with you."

He turned his head slightly and she leaned over to kissed him; a kiss that seemed to light a smoldering fire as he whispered to her that he wanted to get out and finish their conversation in the bedroom, and she could try and have her way with him if he didn't have his way with her first.

Orange paws appeared on the side of the tub. George stuck his head above the tub and looked around, nose twitching at the smell, his blue eyes wide with curiosity.

"Hey, there's no room in here for you, pervert!" Nick told him. "Are you a peeping tom or something?" George lowered his head and his eyes hunted the bubbles.

"He's on the hunt for evidence." Mandy told him.

"He's gonna BE evidence if he jumps in the tub!" Nick playfully stuck his fist in the kitty's face and blew a raspberry at the kitty who merely licked his fist and returned Nick's glare with a doting look.

Mandy blew a few bubbles the kitty's way, and he soon went on the chase, tackling the bubbles and then couldn't figure out why they disappeared.

Nick smiled and looked around at her. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. "Ready to get out?"

"Ready when you are!" She grinned excitedly as she stood up. Bubbles coated her body as she stood, and she ducked her head shyly at him and turned as he stood and stepped out of the tub. He handed her a towel while he dried off and wrapped a towel around his waist, watching as she suddenly was overcome with bashfulness and wished she were more sophisticated like his trailer park tryst.

Mandy felt him take her hand and lead her out of the tub and the familiar tune played again after he said, "You're not going to be shy in a minute...Mandy…dandy…Mandy."

She laughed as she grabbed the towel he held to her and dried off and with a new sense of bravado, finally getting a good look at him and widening her eyes. Oh God, he was so freakin' hot! She reached over and started drying him and then their eyes again met and he gathered her and kissed her, sliding his tongue into her, teasing and tormenting and delighting in the feeling of arousal. In the candlelight, her body was illuminated like an 18th century artist's pose. Her dark brown hair hung around her shoulders with the light flickering on it, her eyes were positively aglow and the shyness made her more alluring.

She was six years younger than him and was just a kid when she started in the lab years ago wearing a punk rock look about her. Her hair was dyed purple, as he recalled, and she was quite the vivacious, snappy talker who wasn't afraid to stand up to the demanding CSIs. Even Grissom didn't dare to cross her.

Nick had heard a rumor that she had the hots for him, but he paid no mind, probably because he was too busy partying up with Warrick and wasting his time with party girls that were slowly becoming younger and younger as he got older and older. Then she started making him sing for his prints, and he went along with it. After his attack, she was really the only person he could tolerate having around, because she wasn't on the team and she cracked him up.

And soon after his fondness grew into something more, a fact that hit him over the head when she told him to get the fuck out of her life back at the trailer park. Maybe that was why he so readily jumped into Eponine's arms, among other reasons; he was lost and fucked up in the head big time. When Mandy sent him that awful e-mail, it was a "you never know how good you have it until it's gone" situation.

But all that was in the past, and it was the present that was important. Now she was naked in his bathroom, pressed up against him and his libido was gleeful and cheering him on and dammit he was going to tell her how he felt about her, _really felt about her, _ tonight even if it killed him. He wasn't letting her get away again like before, and no rapist was going to ruin it for him. McVeigh was like Goliath and Nick was David and he was going to beat this damn giant.

Pulling away reluctantly, Mandy dried her hair, her eyes wide as she realized that, damn it, they were going to have sex or do something similar if certain parts of his anatomy didn't cooperate. Hell she was going to get one on one with her lab fantasy. Her lab fantasy was coming true. Holy crap! She was here naked in front of him now. And he was oh my god…so hot in the buff. She didn't care if anything happened or not. Just being here with him in the nude was satisfying enough. The sight of him naked was giving her a mental orgasm all on its own. All the while, she wondered if she would ever walk again after checking out the size of his package which she suspected in their brief hugs, and the many, many times she would be bent over looking at prints only to look up at the same time as he walked up-not deliberately staring at it. Of course not!

_Liar, liar Mandy!_

Nick, however, didn't think he looked all that great, but Mandy seemed to be okay with the scene. He was still a little thin, but had put on some weight. They had been going to the local Y to work out at her suggestion for a marathon to raise funds for a child abuse agency. The results were starting to show, and while there were small signs of jaundice, he looked better every day. Not his buff self he was three years ago, but a lot better then when he was full Hepatitis B mode and looked like a scrawny alley cat, complete with Tom Cat jowels.

He could feel the heat of her stare on the family jewels and he cleared his throat.

"You're grinning like a Cheshire cat, Mandy!" Nick observed her eagle eyes on him. "Are you gonna disappear on me any minute, save for a smile?"

Flushed, she giggled. "No, but maybe you should dress up like a caterpillar and sit in Grissom's office smoking opium and saying, 'A E I O U'."

Nick chuckled at their crazy talk and took Mandy back into his arms, his hands sliding up and down her back before landing on her ass which was a nice handful. He gave it playful squeeze as he arched her back and kissed her neck. She giggled wildly, and then stood back up and took his hand to lead him into his room running back to pick up the candles and place them on his bureau. Then she led him to the side of his bed and smiled warmly at him as it looked liked the nerves had hit him again.

As they stood by the bed, hands clasped with one another. Nick blew out a breath and asked, "Should I change the music?"

He started to back away, but Mandy held firm. "The music is fine, but you're not!"

"I'm fine." He took a deep breath and had to admit that he felt an unfamiliar feeling with this girl. He felt vulnerable standing in front of her naked as the day his momma gave birth. "I'm…I've got two…issues. One is the obvious, and the other is what happened the last time we were together, you know?" He eyed her tentatively. "What if you get pissed and walk out?"

Mandy smiled sadly, kissed him on the cheek, and insisted, "I'm sorry about the way I carried on the last time, but I had no clue what was going on with you." She wrapped her arms around his waist tightly and whispered, "Relax, there are other ways...and other parts of our bodies that we can use to pleasure each other." She winked at him and then leaned over and licked his face, making him scrunch his own face. "Like this…part." And then she reached around and pinched his ass, making him yelp. "Oh and my hands…are pretty talented, and your hands..." She held them up to her mouth and slowly sucked each digit. "…are all I dream about sometimes."

Smiling shyly, Nick felt a huge relief come over him, and the burden of last time lifted along with the forgiveness of himself for what happened. "I was so out of it. I didn't know what I was doing."

"If it makes you feel better, I did enjoy myself and have had fantasies since," she whispered to him huskily, her lips on his neck.

"Wanna tell me about 'em?" His hands trailed her spine right down to the base before cupping her ass cheeks.

Looking at him again, her eyes filled with longing and lust, she placed a finger over his lips. She shook her head. "No, I wanna live 'em!" and turning slightly Mandy pulled the covers down and swooped in, bringing him with her and covered them up to practically their heads. She took him into her arms and lazily kissed him: sloppy ones, slow ones, rushed ones. She could eat him up right then and there. He smelled good, felt good, and even tasted good. In between kisses, she told him he was safe and it was going to work out just fine. Whatever happened, happened. Whatever didn't, so be it."

Nick returned her kisses with his own, kissing her face, her neck, and her lips before crawling on top of her and looking into her eyes saying, "You're an awesome woman, Mandy."

She smiled and caressed his cheek, drinking in those dark, somber eyes…eyes that had seen too much pain in a span of 36 years. "You finally noticed!"

"Sometimes what you really want is in front of you and you don't even notice," he said and then ran a tongue over her ear and started down her neck, stopping to suck on the soft skin along the nape, amazed that she was letting him do this to her. He smiled at the mark he left and whispered, "I just branded you, woman!"

"You sayin' I'm a cow?" She glared at him while simultaneously smiling at his sneaky little smirk.

"Nope, just makin' sure Henry gets the drift when he sees you at the lab."

He looked down at her at her as she rolled her eyes. "Jealousy becomes you!"

"Uh huh."

He started kissing her lips softly while she ran her nails up and down his back softly and mumbled, "I'll just leave a couple of scratch marks for you to show Warrick Brown who, I heard, didn't approve of me as a date or a girlfriend and tried to fix you up with one his lady friends." She dug her nails in with a triumphant glare causing Nick to yelp and warn her that George would be on a rampage if he thought his beloved master was being harmed in any way.

An orange head popped up, blue eyes in slits, ears back and slight growl. Nick told the kitty all was well...he was fine. George walked away sneaking a concerned glance before a catnip mouse caught his attention and he pounced on it with delight and trotted off, tail swinging behind him.

"I put Warrick in his place," Nick told Mandy whose indignant face greeted him, "and warned him if he opened that big mouth of his, I'd put a fist in it."

"What is his issue with me?" she asked.

Nick groaned, "Can't we talk about it later?"

"No, it's on my mind."

The Texan rolled off, pulled her close to him, and explained, "Warrick wants to go back to the old days where all we did was party and get laid. Remember, we were really young when we started at the lab and just didn't want to bother with women who wanted a serious relationship. He can't let go of those days. I just want to have someone to hang out with and enjoy their company."

"He thinks I'm too nerdy for you," Mandy moped.

"I'm too nerdy for him," Nick said. "We're all nerds compared to Warrick Brown, but for a cool guy he's no expert on women, hence the quickie marriage to Tina and the not so quickie divorce. Okay? So let's drop the subject. I don't think anyone's a nerd except Hodges and..." He glared at her for a moment, "Henry!"

"Oh my god!" She laughed, the comforter coming down below her ample bosom. "You are not going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope, not yet!" Nick smiled and then placed a finger on her lips and said, "Now shush!" He replaced the finger with his mouth, kissing her and crawling back on top of her. He began mouthing his way down her neck as his hands pinned hers over her head before releasing them as he slid down south, using his tongue, lips, and teeth to nibble, lick, and suck one breast and then the other, feeling her fingertips massage his scalp, the sensation sending small jolts down his spine. His libido was doing a happy dance.

As he moved to her side, she turned to face him and her hand slid down nervously as she asked, "Is this okay?"

He felt her hand on him and held his breath waiting for the flashback. It came, but instead of flipping out he simply reached down and whispered to her how much he enjoyed it. She listened like an apt student, massaging him gently…firmly…around the soft skin underneath him and eventually his growing hardness which both grinned at the sight of.

But not quite yet. He pushed her onto her back again and kissed and licked his way down her belly. Then when he hit the centre, a little sound came out as he discovered a very, interesting sight. "Is that…a ...butterfly?" He looked up at her in surprise as she hoisted herself on her elbows and laughed wildly at his shocked expression, wishing she had a camera as his eyes were as wide as saucers.

She got a hold of herself and explained, "Catherine told us about this place and suggested I try it out to make the night more...pleasurable for you...and for me. It's where she gets her Brazilians done."

"That's way too much info about my boss," Nick grimaced and then asked her, "You…did that...for me?" He was shocked, but honored, that she'd endured a most embarrassing and uncomfortable procedure for him. "Did it hurt?"

Mandy snickered, "No, just a little weird. I've done bikini waxes and such, but this was different."

"Did you scream 'Kelly Clarkson'?" Nick asked, recalling the "40 Year Old Virgin" movie that he Warrick had gone to see and spent weeks cracking jokes at Hodges from the movie.

Mandy's face was crimson even in the dim light of the candles. "Nope. So you like it?"

"Yes ma'am., and I'll show you how much...right...now." And he got down to business, showing his upmost appreciation. She smelled like strawberries and enjoyed the longer licks and delighted in the small ones. She was easy to please, he found, as he worked his tongue around, parting the butterfly which, he had to admit, was a real turn on.

Mandy bit her bottom lip and lost herself in the sweet sensations he elicited on her with his tongue and cried his name a few times before gripping the sheets as the first wave hit her and hit her hard indeed. Trying to stay sophisticated wasn't working. She gasped loudly, trailing it with a loud cry, arching her neck into the pillow. She lifted her head up to find his face a few inches away. She threw her arms around him and pulled him down on her, kissing him.

He welcomed the embrace and was soon flat on top of her, her legs wrapped around him, grinding themselves, teasing, her hands digging into his ass. He whispered to her to hold back and it would be worth it, so friggin worth.

Eponine had a page in his history books, but her teachings would stay on for Mandy to benefit from. He whispered to her to breathe deeply and with him and nuzzled into her neck as her hands massaged his shoulders and her tongue worked its way into his ear. She murmured into his ear, "I'm on the pill, so you don't have to worry about anything."

He looked down at her soberly. "I want to be inside you without one. Jesus, that would be awesome, girl, but I…we...just…have to...be cautious, okay? I've got one more test to do in a few months and believe me, no rubbers needed, okay?"

_Damn fucking McVeigh and Smith - who as far as Nick was concerned could fucking burn in hell! He had simply looked at the letter from the rapist and tossed it. Never, ever could he forgive them, not 100 per cent, that is. To some degree he had, but the anger that came up so often was an indicator that all was not forgiven yet._

Her face was flushed with lust and her eyes were gleaming as she stroked his face and ran a finger along his jaw line with a small smile before she whispered, "Okay. It's fine, and when that test comes back negative we'll really celebrate!"

"Damn straight," he mumbled.

He rested his arms around her head and kissed her nose and then the cute little cleft on her chin. He sang her song again while she giggled and then asked if she could go down on him. Nick hesitated and then decided to give it a go. He lay on his back and watched as she crawled over him and lavished his chest and stomach with licks, kisses, and even a little nibble here and there. She moved down and slowly licked around him while he stroked her hair. Then she fully took him in and it was then that his body started. He wished it was because he was enjoying himself, but he heard a voice.

"_Sweet Jesus, he's enjoying this."_

Mandy sensed his body tensing up, stopped immediately, and moved back up and beside him. "I'm sorry. Was that too much for you?"

He nodded. The memory had shaken him to the core. "S...s...sorry."

"No, don't worry about it," she said. "I mean, I'm not Eponine, but I know how to treat a man in bed." Then she frowned guiltily at the mere mention of that name.

Nick looked at her and groaned over the 'Eponine' and then gave her an evil smile. "Turn onto your stomach."

"Why?" She eyed him suspiciously.

"Trust me."

Mandy studied him skeptically and then agreed. "What? Am I gonna get a spanking? That ain't punishment."

"Naaww...I don't do that stuff. I've got something better in mind." Nick turned and fished out a bottle of massage oil from his side table. He'd bought it a few days ago. He had not planned to use it tonight, but there were a couple of things hovering in the air threatening to ruin the night...ghosts of McVeigh and Smith and ghosts of Eponine stood around them; the past intruding on the present.

He told her to wait right there while he darted into the bathroom. Grabbing some towels, he returned, shushing her as she asked questions. He slid them under her and then poured small dabs of oil onto her back. Setting the bottle back onto the table, he knelt on his knees beside her and ran his hands up and down her back, sloping down the narrow waist and then back up again, then down again over her ass and the backs of her legs. Even her feet were not missed.

"The Pyramid Song" with its haunting piano rift filled the air as Thom Yorke sang about going to heaven in a rowboat. Nick's hands were sending Mandy off to heaven as small gasps escaped her throat, her hands gripping into fists.

"Like that?" he whispered in a husky voice sending chills down Mandy's spine, each vertebrae tingling away.

She turned her head and nodded, sweat beads forming on her forehead as she panted, "You should do this for a living. You'd make a fortune. Every girl in town would be at your door!"

"I already use my hands to make a living." He rubbed her shoulders and then glided his hands down the frame of her back. "And I use them for pleasure, but only on a very special lady."

"Oh god, I love your hands," she murmured, feeling her loins dance about screaming to be satisfied, but she was also eager to find out what more he had in store. She didn't have to wait long as he slid his thumb near her back entry and moved his index finger inside her and around.

Mandy sighed and found herself gripping the spreadsheet so hard her knuckles were turning white as his finger moved around softly, firmly, and tenderly. He could feel her growing wet where he moved as he leaned over and whispered, "How's that feel?"

She couldn't answer because she thought she'd start crying as the buildup was beginning from her loins. Then he whispered for her to turn over onto her back and she obliged as his hands went eagerly back to work. He poured some massage oil onto her chest and her belly and began to maneuver his fingers around her breasts and her rising and falling stomach. Then, parting her legs, he poured oil onto her butterfly-adorned vagina telling her to look at him.

Mandy opened her eyes and stared into his. She bit her bottom lip as his hands circled around gently before one finger slid in and began to gently stroke the sensitive nub, first clockwise and then counterclockwise before diving deep into her, his index finger moving deep inside in a 'come here' fashion.

A thought nagged at her; "Gee, I wonder who taught him this." But she remained silent because it didn't matter. He was with her now, not...that...person.

Sweat trickled down the side of her crimson face as she hoisted herself back on her elbows and timed her breathing with his while there was an enormous build up that was threatening to turn into a pile of emotional mush. She laid back as his hands massaged her outside, one over the other, one over the other, until the build up gave way under the pressure and from the pit of her stomach an intense emotional reaction she'd never had before erupted and embarrassingly tears were rolling down her face as the sob fest began.

Curling onto his side, Nick held her tightly as she rode it out. He had done a pseudo Yoni massage that Eponine had told him about (although she'd only showed him a picture and he had stared at it with his head cocked sideways like a dog and said, "Interesting") which paralleled the one she'd given him. He wanted this woman he was with now to fully relax and not be so concerned about him or ghosts that didn't deserve to be there and needed to leave.

Despite his own misgivings about tonight, it hadn't gone unnoticed that Mandy had some of her own insecurities to deal with. He knew the ghost of Eponine hovered between them, and he took it upon himself to help her overcome that green monster between them. He kissed her tears away and she apologized to which he told her there was no need to.

Once settled, he caressed her face and felt her hand reaching down, stroking him gently and massaging him…pressing, twisting, and teasing, earning groans from him while she leaned over and kissed him hungrily. He felt her smiling as he grew hard, and she groaned that she wanted him inside her…now!

"With pleasure, ma'am." He grinned as he reached over and undid the wrapper on the condom and slid it on with her help. Licking his dry lips, Nick then laid himself on top of her body, which smelled of massage oil and strawberries, and entered her, watching as her eyes widened in surprise as she tensed up a bit with a slight, sharp intake of her breath, her legs parting even wider. She finally relaxed a bit as he slid fully in. Her hands were running up and down his back sending thrills through him. Her legs were dangling around his waist as he asked if she was ready.

"Oh man, yes…please! I've had fantasies about doing this with you," she whispered as he began to slowly pump her and then picked up the tempo. She was in total delirium now and was wondering if she should pinch herself. If she died tonight, she would be fine with it. She had checked out Nick's package many times while he wasn't looking, as some of those jeans were a tad tight and revealed more than he knew, but now she was in his bed, with him inside her, each animal-like thrust sending her into orbit and beyond.

Each time she was in orbit three words longed to escape her lips, but she bit her tongue each time. She wasn't going to be the first to say it. No, she wanted to hear him say it, and hopefully he would, but at this moment she was determined to enjoy herself and for him to enjoy her.

She knew dating him would be tough. She would have to deal with all the glam girls hovering around him and his flirtatious manner with Catherine, even though it was a joke, pure and simple. And then there was Sofia Curtis who had been giving her the cold shoulder for several weeks since the rumor mill caught up to her.

And then threw was the side of him, that few people saw. The moodiness, the brooding, the dark moments where he wanted to be left alone, the times he went up to the roof at the lab and just sat and stared while listening to his iPod. Very few people saw that side of him, she'd only learned about it.

"You okay, Miss Webster?" He looked down and saw her squirming with each thrust.

"You're lot more well-endowed than I imagined," she mumbled as her hands grabbed his ass and encouraged him to go deeper, which he obliged. "I don't know if I'll be able to walk in the morning." She grimaced a bit as he thrust harder upon hearing her say this. "Whoa, be a little gentle. Not a lot action going for a while."

"That's nice to know." Nick grinned, his libido singing hallelujah.

"I'm not a one night stand girl," She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him, "so I'll be sore for a day or two as I get used to this again."

"You'll survive, my dear," he muttered, his sexist self happy to hear that she was not one to give out freely. She certainly had made him wait as she decided whether or not their relationship was a rebound or not. And he also had to admit that there was something nice about waiting, as sex was something that didn't start their relationship, but rather cemented it.

Making love to your friend, someone you've known for so many years, was a little bit awkward, but at the same time it was a soulful experience. Now Nick understood why high school sweethearts married so young; why some couples stay married for so long while others simply back out. It was more than love or lust that made a relationship. It was about genuinely loving each other, being not just their lover, but their best friend. It was about a connection that lust could never materialize. Lust was simply a fire that died without the reliable source of oxygen called love.

Now he kind of understood where Eponine was coming from when she talked about sex being spiritual and not some conquest he should be on. Perhaps old age was catching up with him. Perhaps he was wising up. Or maybe his attack had changed his perspective on sex and that it was not something he should use as a lure but as a way of connecting to someone. And sex was better when the connection was made first.

The bed creaked in staccato fashion as their bodies entwined and became one, hands and arms everywhere, whispers, sighs, and moans filling the room. George strolled up and sat above them. He started sniffing Mandy's hair as she lay there and then his head bopped up and down as he watch the coupling going on before his little feline eyes. Nick felt eyes on him and without missing a beat scooped the little critter off the bed telling him that peeping toms get charged in this county.

"You know," Mandy giggled, looking up at him, "eighty per cent of pet owners let their pets stay on the bed while they have sex."

"Yeah?" Nick said. "I'm in the 20 per cent category."

"Scared he'll get ideas?"

"No, I just don't want an audience." He was very focused now, primal urges taking charge and eliminating fears of performance. He had rolled her around and perched her atop him. She rode him with a big grin on her face.

"Gees, you're havin' fun there!" Nick laughed, already comfortable with her. His hands reached up and fondled her breasts.

"Lovin this!" she sighed in lust-filled voice "It's better than my vibrator."

"Oh wow, can you bring it over and show me how you use it?"

She leaned over and whispered huskily, "Actually, I brought it with me in case we needed it. I was going to let you do what you wanted with it."

"Oh. Do you want to use it?" He eyed her curiously. Was he doing okay?

"No, the real thing is much better." She stroked his chest. "It's bigger and warmer."

"I like the bigger compliment." He thought she looked so luscious up on top of him, droplets of sweat making their way down her forehead, one even dripping onto her breasts and he had to touch it, softly trailing his fingers along to her nipples, and then without disconnecting he sat up and held her to him while she held him against her breasts, kissing his head softly as they rocked.

He realized that like him, she was a quiet lover. Not a screamer, not a yeller. He'd had plenty of those and found the noises quite distracting. Sex or making love didn't always require the loud pornographic noises that came with it. Eponine told him once that too many woman and men tried to imitate blue movies and pornos, and that like everything in TV land it was exaggerated.

Nick held her tightly, breathing deeply, feeling some sort of…gratitude. Was that the right word? Not so much that he was getting laid, but that he was finally able to enjoy life's pleasures, in particular physical pleasure, and being with a woman who was not only gorgeous but who was ready to take him, dark past and all.

If he was indeed like Job from the Bible, this must be the part of the testament where God told the devil to let up on him and thus give him back his life. He withdrew his head from her and looked up.

"What's wrong?" Mandy stared down at him, drinking in his musky, sweaty smell. Every fiber of her being was lit up, and she breathed deeply to hold back the friggin' tidal wave of an orgasm that was threatening to erupt.

"Nothing. I just wanted to say that …I…love you."

He reached up and stroked her clammy face as she bit her lip and said, "I love you too."

He turned her gently onto her back again, not once breaking the connection, eyes still focused on one another and continued to fuck her more intensely, sending tingles and shock waves throughout her.

Mandy was in a daze. _Did he just say what he said?_ She knew he felt that way, could see it in his eyes, but the words cemented it.

A tension was building in her stomach again. It was different than the last time, the kind that she rarely got or faked. This one was real. He was lying flat on her with his eyes closed, and the increase in pulse and gasps in between thrusts was indicative of his own orgasm. She hoped he would come before her, but she lost the battle as the tidal wave hit and she gripped his shoulders as her loins contracted and held tight and she caved to the tension and cried out softly, his own trailing hers. Was he waiting too?

Their bodies were rigid and then muscles eased as shaking, he pulled out and took care of personal matters before turning to her again, running a tongue over dried lips and drawing her back to him.

Mandy was cynical when it came to sex and romance. She thought those damn movies were just a joke and love like that only existed in writer's mind. A good writer. Not those procedural crime dramas that spent time on weird men with women 25 years younger than themselves. Now she started to see that those stories started somewhere. Her body was relaxed and tingling as freshly released endorphins coursed through her veins. As she snuggled close to him, she could feel that his body was relaxed, rested, and rejuvenated.

Sex was good for mental health and good for the soul, especially for someone who'd been ravaged so cruelly. Mandy didn't even want to comprehend the details of what Nick had gone through, but she was grateful that he was still here. Eventually, the details would emerge for her ears to hear and listen. But that was fine. She would deal with it.

Mandy rolled onto her side and looked at Nick, who had an arm over his face. "Are you okay?" She could see that his mind seemed to be elsewhere, his dark eyes looking reflective.

"Yeah." He turned to her and smiled.

"Are you sorry we did this?" Mandy asked nervously, wondering if he was going to cave to Warrick's pressure tactics.

"Hell no," he answered, amused at such a stupid question. "Just more relieved that I didn't make a mess of things tonight."

"You couldn't if you tried," she drawled, her eyes radiant, her face aglow, a look that satisfied and relieved him.

Reality checked in as Nick said, "I know something about fantasies, Mandy, and I just want to warn you what you're getting into with me. I'm not the nice guy everyone thinks I am. I've got a lot of baggage."

"Don't we all?" she asked, shaking her head, wondering why he was telling her something she already knew.

"I mean, there's my night terrors, my crabby temper, my mood swings, my kleptomaniac cat..."

Mandy snickered at the last part and said, "Oh Nick, don't you concern yourself about me. I love you just the way are, klepto cat and all. I wouldn't take you any other way."

"And I love you too, Mandy, my dandy girl!" He yawned and curled up under the comforter, drawing her closer to him.

She kissed him lazily, exhausted, weary, and satisfied, and watched as his eyes closed and he drifted off as she whispered sweet dreams.

George jumped back onto the bed and plopped himself between them, purring contently before moving beside Nick and licking his face. Mandy smiled at the tender exchange of affection between the cat and the owner and then gave herself a hard pinch. Yep, everything that happened tonight did happen. Scratching the rumbling kitten's little head, she curled up next to the men of the house and was soon in a deep slumber.

**A/N Hope you guys liked my smut fest! **

**Never thought Radiohead would get me in such a romantic mood, but I'm weird like that.**

**And for those who are wondering, there's more to come. More smut, more angst. **


	18. Chapter 18

**IRREVERSIBLE**

**CHAPTER 18**

_We dance around a ring and suppose, while the secret sits in the middle and knows._

_Robert Frost_

_**Special thanks to Smokey for her input and edits. Any further mistakes are mine.**_

_**Warning: Graphic talk and smut!!**_

Mandy's eyes flickered open as sunlight streamed into the room. She felt hot breath on her neck. A breeze whispered through the blinds as she shifted around gently so as not to disturb the sleeping brood in her bed.

"Hey good looking! You're looking pretty dreamy today!" she whispered.

Blue eyes surrounded by orange fur and crowned with a pointy head mewed in response as George trotted over and head-butted her on the chin and then walked across Nick's head as if it were merely another bump on the road he must challenge. He walked off, but not before licking the Texan's ear and then hustling off at the hand that came to swat it accompanied by an unintelligible growl.

As George walked away, Mandy turned around and lay down, studying Nick's profile.  
He looked like a little boy when he slept; his mouth in a pout, his hair tussled, one arm under his head. He snored slightly, but not too loudly, mumbling incoherently in his sleep.

As she continued to study his face, Mandy couldn't help but smile, because even sleeping he looked pretty damn good…not great…sleep was crusted around his eyes, his skin was puffy, and he was white as a ghost…but damn, he still looked hot as a tamale.

She looked at the clock. She had to pop in to work tonight to check in with her student in the office, a woman 15 years her senior in a career change. She was a nice lady…picked things up pretty quickly in spite of having been recently diagnosed with ADD, and she was a real note taker which saved Mandy the trouble of explaining and re-explaining. The gal had a real wry humour and was fitting in with the lab rats quite well.

The lab tech also promised to check in with Wendy and Hodges about her date with Nick. Both wanted to know details, details, and more details, but Mandy decided that while she may confirm some suspicions (whether or not he carried a nice sized package in his pants…must share that with Hodges to make him squirm) and how good a kisser he was, and did he hee-haw in bed, the rest would be sacred.

Her morning glow and reverie was interrupted by the changes in Nick's breathing. She turned and saw his chest rising and falling rapidly and propped her head up on her hand, rubbing his arm gently. She knew it was his sleep paralysis and that gentle touching helped to bring someone out of it.

He couldn't move.

He couldn't breathe.

McVeigh was sitting on him, smiling down as he whispered, "You did real good, cowboy."

Nick's eyes popped open as he felt someone gently touching him and he looked over and sighed in relief. "Hey." He grunted and stretched out his arms above his head to ease the tension that this stupid sleep paralysis caused him.

"You okay?" Mandy asked, her pixie face filled with concern as her chocolate brown eyes focused on his scraggly, anxious face, her full lips pressed together.

"Yeah, just…bad dreams," he replied in a hoarse voice. He turned to his side and drew her to him, kissing her.

God, even his morning breath was wonderful, Mandy thought as she hungrily kissed back. Not that it smelled great. Pretty rank, in fact, and his eyes were puffy and red and his hair resembled those bad hair, mustache days of two years ago. But oh well. No, Nick Stokes didn't look that great in the morning, but good enough.

Pressed up against him, she sensed his arousal, and he growled, "Gonna take of care of that?"

"Oh, but of course!" she responded, gently pushing him onto his back as he grabbed a condom off the table and handed it to her. Lovingly, she rolled it onto him and then crawled on, inching her way down slowly and teasingly, making him hiss before she had taken him fully in and began rocking slowly, then upping the speed, squeezing him each time.

Mandy leaned over and whispered to him, "You're so damn hot in the morning. Even your morning breath is sexy. Smells putrid, but it still sexy."

Nick laughed. "Oh, so I smell now, do I? That's a romantic thing to say to a guy in the morning." He reached up and touched her eyes. "What's all this crap in your eyes?"

"Same thing as what you've got, stinky breath!" Mandy teased as she stroked the crust out of his bloodshot eyes.

"Stinky breath?!" Nick faked offense. "That's not nice. You hurt my feelings!"

She leaned over and kissed him, whispering, "Better?"

"A little," he answered, kissing her back before turning her onto her back and riding her, pinning her hands above her head. Her eyes were crusty, her hair frizzed up, but he didn't care. He flattened himself on her, releasing her hands which were immediately implanted onto his ass as her legs crisscrossed themselves around his waist.

Now this session was a little different. The bashfulness and shyness of last night was a factor no longer, and it was okay to be a little more primordial.

It was time to show her what he really had in the sack as he rolled off of her and told her to turn around. He grasped her by the waist and swung one arm around her chest, hand splayed across her breast, two fingers tweaking her nipple, and entered her from behind, holding her body flush against his, grunting loudly with each thrust, their bodies rising and falling in unison.

_This is different, Mandy thought - not that she minded. She was just surprised._

She reached behind her and fondled him sensuously as one of his hands dropped down from her waist and reciprocated, fingers tracing inside her while he planted his mouth into her neck, sucking almost painfully. Then with his other hand he reached up, turned her face towards his, and devoured her mouth. Their breath was hot, skin against skin as wave after wave drove them into a near frenzy.

Nick could almost hear Sir David Attenborough upper crest English accent describing their lovemaking:

_Hee awr in a bedroom in Las Vegas, Nevada, we have two primate-like creatures practicing the fine art of sexual intercourse. Like their gorilla and chimpanzee counterparts, human primates can engage in sexual activity for purely recreational purposes other then procreation._

Sweating and breathless, Mandy was a bliss with his hands on every sensitive nub on her bodied, the combination of thrusting, and fondling weakening her resolve, making it hard to reciprocatate. This was a complete 180 from last night's sweeter and more tender intercourse. This was more like a freakin' Animal Planet special. Maybe she should start watching it more often as perhaps this was where this dude's talents were learned from.

Nick was surprised that Mandy was so damn compliant, he had suspected she had a more raw side to her, but was selective about who she showed it to her. Her hands were stroking him, driving him nuts and increasing his pace, thank God he had a hold of her, or she would be launched into the wall and then she would be at work explaining where she got the humongous bump on her head. Bad enough the love marks on her neck were going to need some explaining.

Mandy moaned from the intense pressure building in her pelvis, and she struggled not to give in as it beckoned her. She wasn't sure if she would freak the guy out, but the strain surmounted and finally she caved into it with a loud cry as the dam burst within her and the floodgates opened releasing her own fluid - an even rarer occurrence.

Gasping out loud, her bodied weakened, she gripped the headboard to keep herself steady so he could finish then he buried his scraggly face into her back while a deep groan escaped his lips. Finally, he released her and they both collapsed onto the bed, curling into each other, trying to regain their composures. Mandy turned over, shaking, as she had even stunned herself. She was relieved to see his face was flushed as much as hers felt.

"Whoa, that was...amazing." She swallowed, gathered herself, and smiled at the Texan.

"Yeah…you okay with all that? It was a bit more...animal like." He beamed at her rosy cheeks which were lit up in the sunbeam that shone through the blinds.

"Well, it was quite a different style from last night's tender, sweet sex." She traced his lips and the cleft in his strong jaw. "But either way, it was absolutely…orgasmicaly fantastic." With those words, she kissed him lightly on the cheek, then stroked his shoulders as they enjoyed a quiet, peaceful moment, save for the sound of Mrs. Matthews prattling on to one of the neighbours about her cats, her cigarettes, and the state of the world, and how that damn Obama-shaboma should stop associating with Jesse Jackson, Michael Jackson, Kate Jackson, and the rest of that damn crew.

"Were you dreaming about him again?" Mandy finally said.

"Yeah." Nick sighed heavily. "Jackass…said...some nasty things to me when I saw him at the course."

"What did he say?" she asked.

"I don't want talk about it." He pulled her to him and kissed her again, wondering if he could go three for three. "I'm not sure if I can pull it off again."

"Oh I'm okay with that!" Mandy laughed. "Trust me, I think I'm swollen a bit down there."

Nick laughed. "Aww poor baby, but I'm glad to hear your okay. And uh...don't forget to show Henry this little mark I left here." He touched her neck. "Oh and that one is...well...I'd say you'd better wear a turtleneck for the next few days. It's about ¼ of an inch."

"Freakin' animal!!" She glared. "Great…I'll never hear the end of it from Hodges. Oh God, and Grissom! I have to talk to him about some prints today!" Then she quickly peeked at his back and said, "Hehehe...make sure Warrick Brown sees that little scratch I left on you."

"He'll probably think George did it and crack some jokes about spending too much time with him and having no life! I'll correct him though. Speaking of which," Nick eyes narrowed as he asked, "where's George?"

"And what happened to the burgers?" Mandy asked.

"Oh I don't wanna know!" Nick said, jumping out of the bed. They went to the kitchen to find out the fate of their meal.

As they suspected, the burgers had met an untimely death. Burger pieces were scattered about the kitchen. The prime suspect was lying in the hallway in a beam of the sun, licking his greasy paws contently.

Nick knelt down in front of George. "Alrighty buddy, you've got the evidence all over you. 'Fess up and maybe the DA will go easy on you."

George chirped and curled his head upside down, giving his best little, poor puddy tat look, but the Texan wasn't buying this look. It was the same look he'd see after he'd find one of his trophies smashed on the floor or a plant dragged across the floor leaving soil on his now hacked T-carpet.

"Hey little man, don't give me that look! I invented that sad face look. It's how I get out of trouble at work!" Nick looked up at Mandy and gave his poor, little sad Nick look.

"Yeah!" Mandy scoffed. "You remind me of Puss-N-Boots from Shrek with that look. I expect a Spanish accent to go with it and a hat to be tucked under your chin."

Nick grabbed his baseball hat, propped it under his chin, and then looked woefully at Mandy who grinned. "Work that look on me tonight and I'll show you where it takes you."

The Texan grinned excitedly and pumped his fist, "Yeah!!"

George walked up and looked at both them, with the poor puddy tat look then rolled onto his back again.

"I don't think he's talking, so I'll take these burger pieces back to the lab and run them for paw prints," Mandy said as Nick knelt down to pick up the remnants of the burgers.

"I'll swab 'em for his DNA," Nick said, sneering at the little cat before rubbing his belly roughly. The feline stretched out and purred contently, then wrapped himself around Nicks hand, kicking at it.

"That looks like fun." Mandy smiled as she cleaned up the kitchen.

He looked up and smiled and just realized that they were both naked and very comfortable with one another.

Nick walked over, snaked an arm around her waist, and whispered, "Yeah, you want your belly rubbed?" He tickled her in the belly button.

"I like a lot of things rubbed," she giggled, pushing his hands away and telling him to stop.

"Well, tonight you'll get a lot of that, but for today wanna try paragliding?" he asked. He'd been meaning to take another ride, missing the rush he got after he landed.

Mandy's eyes widened at the suggestion. "I don't know. That might be a bit scary."

"No, it's actually fun. Don't worry. They'll show you how to do it."

"Okay, after our workout."

"You mean what we did back there?"

"No, wiseass! Let's go to the Y and work out, you know that marathon is in six weeks. I've raised about 1000 so far. " She punched him playfully on the arm as they headed back to his room.

They quickly got dressed. Mandy had brought an overnight bag and had her workout gear in there, and they had decided to grab something to eat on the way when the phone rang.

"Great!" Nick groaned. "I told Grissom I wanted this weekend off. Fuck!" Then he saw the number on the phone and told her, "It's my dad." Concerned he picked it up.

"Hey Dad!" The Texan said tightly, nervous. Was mom okay? She hadn't been feeling well. High blood pressure.

"Nicholas, I need to talk to you." His father's grim voice greeted, salutations be damned.

Nick felt his innards tense up as his father never referred to him in full name unless he was in trouble. But he was far from home, so what could it be?

"What's wrong, Dad?"

"You want to explain this letter I got?" His father's voice was laced in anger.

Confused, Nick asked, "What letter?"

"This letter from John McVeigh!"

Nick felt like he'd been hit by a truck and was now stumbling around to find his head which had been ripped off his neck. "What do you mean?" he asked, clinging to hope that it wasn't what he thought.

"This is the sickest thing I've ever read, Nick. He wrote some pretty awful things about you."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Dad."

"He told me that he…you...and...he…" His father's voice was choking up.

"Oh fuck!" Nick muttered under his breath, and he looked towards Mandy who was mouthing, "What's wrong?" She pulled her t-shirt over her head and began to brush her hair.

Running a hand over the back of his head, his voice cracked a bit. "Dad...I…"

"What kind of garbage is this, Nick? You were sick with Hepatitis B a few months ago. Did something happen to you, son?"

"What did he say in the letter? Just scan it to me and I'll…"

"Is it true, son?" Judge Stokes asked, his voice tight and apprehensive. "Did this guy come after you in the library at a prison? Just tell me the truth, Pancho."

Nick licked his lips and sputtered, "Yes, he did, Dad."

"Oh my God!" Judge Stokes moaned. "Oh my dear God. What the hell did you get yourself into? Dammit! You never are careful, are you? Always impulsive, Nick, never thinking things through…gotta...go…off and get into danger...like you did three years ago."

Enraged, Nick inhaled and shouted, "I don't have to fucking listen to this, Dad!"He hung up and flung the cordless phone across the room, cursing a blue streak before flopping down on the couch, placing his fingers behind his head, and linking them and kneeling over trying to collect himself, his breath before he punched walls, the mirror, and kicked and screamed-he didn't want scare Mandy or the little kitty like he did the last time when he punched the mirror in the bathroom. Poor George didn't come out from hiding for three days. Thus the building of the first scratching post came about.

Finally, collected, he said, "That's just like him, Mandy. Anytime something bad happens to me, it's always my fault. Always. When I was buried alive, he asked, 'How the hell did you get yourself into this situation?' I'm not gonna hear it this time. No."

"So that's why your parents don't know what happened?" Mandy asked, not surprised, from what Nick had told her of his parents, they weren't always the most compassionate folks who always felt victims sometimes bring on their own attacks.

Nick looked up at he, eyes dark and red, and nodded. "Yeah, that's why."

"That's understandable." She sat down next to him and rubbed his back, he took her hand clasped it.

"How the fuck did a letter get to him?" Nick asked shaking his head, confused. "Guess I need to go see him to find out."

Mandy stared at him, alarmed. "You want to go see him?"

"You're damn straight," Nick answered firmly.

Mandy stared at him and nodded. "I guess I'm going too."

"No!' Nick stared at her. "I don't want you near him."

"I don't want you near him either," she said determinedly. "So you're stuck with me."

"I don't want you coming into the prison with me."

"Fine. I'll wait outside. Let me drive you."

He looked at her and nodded. "Fine."

As they dressed, Nick thought over what he was going to say to McVeigh and realized there was no way, no way that he could get a straight answer from him. Then he placed a call to Grissom, not wanting to bother Catherine as she was still recovering from his testimony.

xxXXxx

"What do you mean he sent a letter to your father?" Grissom sat up on his couch from where he lay writing a poem for Sara.

"Somehow he got a letter out to my dad."

"Do you have a copy of it?"

"I tried to ask him to send a copy, but he was freaking out on me. Grissom, I couldn't listen to him."

"I understand, Nick. I'll get to the bottom of this."

"That man is never going to stop, Grissom."

"I don't know what to tell you, Nick, other than maybe you should talk to your father?"

Silence, then a sniffle. "Grissom…my dad…fuck!"

"Your father will get through this."

"He'll never look at me the same."

Grissom was at a loss for words, but managed to muster up, "Then I guess you guys have some talking to do. He might need some time, Nick. Remember, it was awhile before you even said anything. In fact if we hadn't found the evidence we would have probably never known. So if you were struggling to come to terms with it, then how do you expect your father to deal with it better."

Nick's silence indicated to Grissom that he was indeed listening to what he had to say.

"Look, Nick, just try and go about your day and let me take care of your father."

"Thanks, Grissom." The Texan sounded relieved.

The bugman took down the number of his father and then called as soon as he hung up. Grissom was surprised by the frosty tone showed him by Nick's father. A part of him wondered if the man still blamed the team for his son's kidnapping.

"Look, Judge Stokes, I'm very sorry about what you have learned about Nick, but I need to know if you can get that letter out to me."

There was a long pause. "I'll get it to you as soon as possible," he said.

"A lot of rules were broken that day," Grissom explained. "There were lot of...well...it was pure happenstance."

"Doesn't help that my son is so damn impulsive," Judge Stokes grumbled.

"He wasn't properly supervised by the prison staff. They locked him in the library thinking he was safe when in fact the two prisoners that were loose were actually in there."

"He should have been looking after himself better," Judge Stokes countered. "He allowed this to happen to himself like he allowed himself to get kidnapped years ago…always trying to be a hero and winding up making a damn fool of himself."

Grissom sighed, but the explanation for Nick's constant need for his approval suddenly showed itself. A hard-knox father who rarely showed emotion-contrasting a son who wore his on a sleeve. "Judge Stokes, your son was in a no-win situation that day."

"I always told Nick there wasn't such a thing."

"The evidence we have says otherwise."

"May I see it?"

"Absolutely not." Grissom answered curtly, "If you try and use your connections, you'll be met with resistance form myself, Catherine Willows and D.A. Maddie Klein."

"It's public domain."

"His name is not even on the file. It's a John Doe case, and I refuse to show you anything without Nick's approval."

Judge Stokes grumbled a minute or two before asking, "What sentence did McVeigh receive?"

Relieved that Stokes was backing off, Grissom answered, "He's going to be sentenced for all his crimes in a few weeks."

"Well, that didn't stop him from mailing letters to me."

"We'll get to the bottom of this, Judge, and can I just add something further? Shortly after the attack, Nick solved the case of a murdered girl and rescued another child - the one McVeigh is being charged with kidnapping. Your son is a good man. Don't let what happened to him change that."

Grissom could hear the heaviness in Judge Stokes' voice and rationed that he needed time to process the news.

xxXXxx

Nick slid on his shades and sat on the hood of his Tahoe outside the walls of High Desert State Prison.

Mandy climbed up and sat beside him. She had agreed that they would go, but he would dare not go into that place. Not at all! They compromised, and under the blazing sun they sat outside, her with shades on under a baseball cap, Capri track pants, and a tank top.

"I wanna go in there and just fucking kill him, Mandy," Nick growled, his hands in fists.

The lab tech pulled her knees up to her chest and sighed.

"I've only told one person this, so this stays with you," Nick went on. "When I was nine years old, my babysitter molested me. My parents never knew…still don't. A few days later, I went over to her house and whipped a baseball through the storm window of her house. I ran back home and hid in the tree house, but someone saw me and told my parents. So my dad crawled into the tree house and whipped my ass hard with his belt. I had stripes across there for weeks."

He cast a look towards her dismayed face and smiled crookedly. "That's just how kids were disciplined. Nowadays, social services would yank me out of the home and my dad would be facing assault charges."

"You think?" Mandy shook her head.

"I think what pissed me off was that my dad never understood me. I just remember that whole summer I was so angry all the time. We were at a funeral and she was there."

"_Eyes front, young man!"_

_Nick turned around and slumped into the pew. He hated this church. The music was weird. The people were weird, and the seats were hard, and his butt was still sore from the whipping he'd gotten a few days ago._

_And she was there. _

_While his dad spoke softly to his mother, Nick snuck another peek at the babysitter sitting a few rows behind them._

"_Dad!" his sister, one year older, ratted, "Nick's doing it again!"_

_His father whipped his head around and ordered, "Nicholas, come sit beside me. Now!"_

_Eyes ablaze, he stood up and passed his sister, stomping on her foot. She screeched, "Ow!! Dad, Nick kicked me!"_

"_It was an accident!" Nick whined._

"_Your foot accidentally stomped on her foot?!" his father said grabbing him by his arm and yanking him roughly next to him. "You'll be meeting the belt again when we get home!"_

"_It won't hurt. Just like the last time!" Nick glared at his dad defiantly._

"_What's gotten into you, boy?" His father yanked him down hard beside him._

_Nick folded his arms and pouted while his father sighed, exasperated, and looked apologetically at the parishioners. Unlike their regular church, St. Simon's memberts were not used to the antics of the seven Stokes kids...not used to the squabbling and bickering._

_No, this was a Catholic church where one had to be pious and guilt-ridden all the time, unlike his more joyous Episcopalian church where cookies and juice were served afterwards, all of which were devoured by him and his siblings, causing his parents great embarrassment until they started to supply the church themselves._

_Nick swung his legs back and forth and entertained evil thoughts of decapitating his sister's favourite Barbie and replacing it with a broccoli sprout. As he stared around he noticed the priest for the first time and choked a laugh out at the uni-browed man. He clasped his hands over his mouth and keeled over. _

"_Judge Stokes!" an older woman gasped, "Is your son laughing at a funeral?!"_

"_No, he's crying." Judge Stokes leaned over. "Are you crying, Pancho?" his father asked while he rubbed his back soothingly._

_Nick looked up nervously at his dad and slowly nodded, relieved that his dad thought he was crying and not laughing, for that would have earned a major whipping._

_And from that day on, Nick learned the valuable lesson of making people think that all was well with him when it was certainly not, as he was spared another spanking that night for his 'emotional' state._

Mandy shook her head. "Wow! And to this day your parents have no idea about your being molested? Why didn't you tell them?"

"I don't know. I guess after it was over, I just wanted to forget about it. But I was so angry; I was in a bad state that summer. My mom thought I was developing some kind of oppositional defiance disorder or something. I spent most of the summer with the pets."

They sat that way until the sun started to set and Mandy told him that it was time to get going. As they drove into the city, Nick asked her if she wanted to be dropped off at her place.

"No, I've got get to work. Do you want to meet afterwards?" she asked, her brown eyes looking hopeful.

"Yeah, of course." Nick smiled warmly. "I'm not going to let my dad ruin the rest of the weekend."

"Absolutely," she told him.

"But I'm gonna go over to the humane society before the dog walking shift closes and spend some time with the little fur balls."

"Why do I get the feeling George is not going to be the only fur ball around the house?" Mandy exclaimed as she got out of the car, pulling out her overnight bag and realizing she only had last night's clothes with her. Oh well.

"What?!" Nick asked. "You think I'm gonna turn into the crazy cat guy and run into the lab wailing gibberish and throwing cats at everyone?"

"I don't know," Mandy sighed, "but if you did, I'd say your line of procession would start with the Under Sheriff to Ecklie to Grissom and then on to Hodges."

"Yeah!" Nick scoffed. "Add Warrick and Greg to that procession and you'd be 100 per cent right."

Mandy laughed and leaned over to kiss him goodbye, noticing Sofia walking into the lab, her eyes icy, and in she went.

"Oh great!" Mandy groaned. "She's been a b with an itch to me."

Nick shrugged. "C'est la vie!"

"Voulez vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?" Mandy asked.

"Oui!" Nick answered. "Tell Sofia to mange le merde when you go in?"

"That's rude!" Mandy said, understanding the meaning of that expression. "And she might understand."

"Ahh...well." The Texan grinned, and as she closed the door he waved goodbye.

xxXXxx

Mandy threw on a lab coat and darted through the lab running straight into Wendy.

"It's your weekend off," the DNA Tech said, "and you look exhausted and like you've been in a wrestling match." She smiled at the bruise on her friend's neck. "Well, technically you were!"

"Yeah… so?" Mandy was anxious.

"I guess your evening went well? Details?"

"I don't kiss and tell!" Then she turned around and smacked dab into Grissom who looked at them, amused. His eyes fixed on the bruise. She pulled her coat over it.

"Oh, Dr. Grissom, sorry."

"How's Nick doing?" he asked, dismissing the bruise which he only stared because it reminded him of ones he'd given Sara.

"He's okay, given the circumstances," Mandy told him.

"If you see him, let him know I spoke to the DA. She's looking into it."

"He'll be glad to hear it, but maybe you should tell him yourself, with all due respect." Mandy looked at him sternly. She'd never been intimated by the bugman. She thought he was a weirdo anyways.

xxXXxx

Grissom puttered out of his lab ready to call it a shift. He just wanted to get home, read a good book, drink a nice beer, and hit the sack. As he rounded a corner, he heard his name being paged to go to the lobby as he had a visitor.

Nick's father stood there wearing a visitor's badge on a rumpled jacket.

"Judge Stokes," Grissom said while mentally saying goodbye to his quiet evening with a book and a beer.

"We meet again." The older man stared at him. He looked tired, presumably from catching a plane ride. "My wife's at the hotel. She's a mess."

Grissom nodded empathetically. "I understand." And led him to his office.

"Nick doesn't know I'm here," Judge Stokes said as they walked back.

"Well, he's not on duty at this moment. Usually he comes in and works on a case, but he had other matters to attend to," Grissom said, not mentioning that he too heard via Sara that he and Mandy had plans.

They entered the office and Grissom closed the door.

"So how did this all happen, Grissom? How did my boy get himself into trouble again?" Judge Stokes said.

"Well, it was not my case. It was Catherine Willows' case."

"I wasn't all that impressed with her. The last time she was telling us to 'show Nick our support' like he was some sort of politician while meanwhile he was buried alive. So I'd rather not talk to her if you don't mind."

"Okay, that's fine," Grissom said. "However, the case is closed. The perpetrator pleaded guilty and the other one involved hung himself in his cell weeks ago."

"I want to know why Nick put himself in that position…to get himself violated in a prison. Why wasn't anyone watching him?"

"Judge Stokes, a lot of rules were broken that day. I don't know why Nick was in the library alone. I think he was looking for some evidence and was in the process of doing so not realizing that two prisoners were in the library. And it happened to be that one of them knew him."

"I remember McVeigh. The kid had issues. Dad was a drinker…real sleaze bag." Judge Stokes leaned back in the chair. "I know he went to high school with Nick, but he was a few grades behind, Nick was actually in a grade a head of his age group, he was a bright kid despite his behavioural problems. Always clowning around in class, hamming it up"

"Nick told me about McVeigh."

"My son…always impulsive, always eager to get into the thick of things. I always thought he was like that because he wanted to please me. I don't know. It was hard. We had seven kids to look after, and with our careers…well, sometimes maybe Nick didn't get the attention he should have. We tried our best. He was a hard kid to raise…impulsive…surly. We had him tested for ADHD at one point because he was so damn hyper at times, bouncing off the walls. The doctor figured it was because there were seven kids and he was the youngest…our runt of the litter because he was so damn scrawny, a whip of a kid. Then he changed dramatically at about, oh I'd say...I don't know…at nine? I don't know. He had a bad summer and he threw a baseball at our neighobur's house for no reason...shattered her window. Christ, it cost a fortune to replace that window, and we had a lot of bills to pay. I snapped and I gave him a whipping for it. I guess I shouldn't have, because his behaviour got worse after that. I actually stopped whipping any of them because, it was wrong. I apologized to Nick, but he didn't want to hear it. He just told me to get lost. He didn't talk to me for weeks, but he got kind of clingy with his mom. For a few weeks he slept on the floor beside her. Then one day he was fine."

Grissom listened intently as the father tried to make sense of things.

"When I got that letter, I just got sick to my stomach. I showed his mother. I didn't want to, but we don't keep secrets from each other, especially about our children."

"May I see it?" Grissom asked.

Judge Stokes brought it out from inside his coat pocket and handed it to him, slumped back in his chair, and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

Unfolding the letter, Grissom slipped his glasses on and began to read:

_Dear Judge Stokes:_

_Remember me?!_

_I'm the kid you put in the slammer for a year for microwaving a cat!_

_I guess you thought you was helping me, but you didn't. Shortly after I got there, two guys attacked me. I became their plaything for the summer. They used to catch me in the shower, they used to catch me when I was doing the laundry… in the basement. The guards did nothing to help me. I got my insides ripped apart daily by these two cocksuckers and thanks to them and you, I became the sicko I am now._

_Never, never did I forget that and I blamed you every fucking day for what you did. My lawyer asked for leeway, but you didn't see fit to give it. Meanwhile, some fucking drunk wiped out a whole family and you gave the guy 6 months probation. _

_So a few months ago I finally got my payback. Your pretty boy son, Nick, was alone in the prison library reading some book and my friend and I caught him and pretty much did to him what was done to me. You should have heard him, crying away while we gave it to him real good, he was bleeding away, like a stuck pig. I even made him squeal like one. The little piggy sure squealed hard when I twisted his ear while shoving it up his ass. I had him gagged, but the guy was sure begging for his life, but you know in the end, he had this look on his face at the end like a sheep to the slaughter, knowing his fate was in our hands. Like he gave up, but my friend didn't want to kill him. I should have taken charge of things. Can you imagine the crime scene photos of your son? Man, they'd wind up on some website somewhere knowing the sickos that work in the LVPD._

_We took turns, me and my friend. Had him hog tied, bent over a table, real pretty sight. _

_Revenge is sweet and your boy was real sweet too! I sure enjoyed myself. _

_John McVeigh_

Grissom sighed heavily, feeling his insides crumble, his stomach twisting in nausea as images of Nick's attack played like a snuff movie through his mind, and set the letter down, his hands shaking. Other than the evidence presented, he was not privy to the intimate knowledge of the attack. Only Catherine Willows was, and she refused to talk about it with him. Tears would well up in her eyes at the mention of it, so Grissom dropped it.

Finally he looked at Nick's father who sported a weary look with his rumpled up suit and bags under his eyes. Grissom felt for the man as any father who read such a letter about their child would be sickened and angered all at once.

"What did Nick say when you talked to him?" Grissom finally asked while he rubbed his beard.

"He didn't deny it," Nick's father said, staring off into space, still in deep shock.

"It wasn't his fault. He was outnumbered and they had a gun up against his head the whole time," Grissom said quietly. "My colleague said he put up a good fight though, and as I recall he had injuries and bruises on his arms. He's lucky to be alive. Those two men had every opportunity to kill him, but didn't."

"Did he come to you right away and tell you?" Judge Stokes asked.

"No," Grissom said. "Unfortunately, I can't divulge any more information, but I can tell you someone else came forward and told us. That was very hard for Nick. He was more afraid of what this would do to his reputation than his health."

"So that's how he got Hepatitis B," Judge Stokes sighed, shaking his head.

"None of this was his fault," Grissom insisted. "And if he were my son, I know I'd initially be angry with him, but that's the last thing Nick needs. As hard as it is, I think he needs to know that you don't blame him. You and I both know that nobody ever asks to be attacked in such a way. This was someone's weapon in a war they waged on you long ago."

"So it's my fault?!" Judge Stokes blinked back tears.

"It's nobody fault but the perpetrator."

"Did Nick testify or will he?"

"He testified on videotape. It's been dubbed and locked away by order of the courts. His file has been given a pseudonym. We've done our best to protect his identity," Grissom explained, watching the man's face grow ashen.

"Which Judge?"

"Judge Colbert."

"Good. He's a good man. I know him." Judge Stokes nodded.

"The D.A. was very careful about everything," Grissom assured him, wondering why this man was more concerned about his son's reputation than the fact that he was victimized and finally said so.

"Judge Stokes, I know you're worried about Nick's career, but I think you need to be more concerned about your son's welfare."

"I am, but I'm angry at him. His mother…Jesus Christ, I don't know how much more we can take of this stuff happening to him. The last time, when he was buried alive, it damn near killed her."

"It nearly killed Nick," Grissom pointed out. "He's alive, Judge Stokes. That's the main thing. Let's try and remember that. In fact, I think you should go back to the hotel and rethink your priorities."

Judge Stokes snapped out his grief and shot back, "Don't you talk to me like that!"

"Well, are you more concerned about Nick's wellbeing, or are you concerned about your reputation?" Grissom asked, knowing Catherine would be asking the same thing.

"I'm concerned about the homophobic attitude of the law enforcement world, Mr. Grissom."

"Rape has nothing to do with a person's sexuality. It's a form of attack on one human being by another. You, as a judge, are aware of that." Grissom could almost hear Catherine cheering him on.

"I need time to think about this," Judge Stokes said.

"And I think until you've thought about it it would be better for both you and your son to not have any communication until you've both had time to process this. I'm not going to tell Nick you're in town, so it's best you don't either. The past several months we've had to deal with a case of severe violence towards one of our team members, and it's taken a toll on our team and in particular on Nick. Out of respect for your son, leave him alone," Grissom told him firmly. "Am I clear about this?"

Judge Stokes stared hard at the entomologist and then nodded.

"Good. Make sure your wife gets the same message."

The judge slowly got up from the chair and walked out, then asked, "How is he doing?"

Grissom leaned back in his chair, placing both hands over his chest. "He's doing fine. He's a strong man. You raised a good son, Judge Stokes. I'm glad he's on my team."

Judge Stokes' face became furtive as he finally got sick of Grissom's patronizing look and stare.

"Have you yourself told Nick that? Judging from my conversations with him, you've never been one to heap praise on him either. So with all due respect, Dr. Grissom, you have no right to criticize me. If I was hard on Nick, it was because he was my son. It was about a style of parenting that came from having to run a strict household with seven kids all while managing careers, and we were not ones to hire nannies because our oldest children did the job of looking after the younger ones. We were and still are a tight knit family. We went to church every Sunday, our kids had strict bedtime routines, and discipline was stern. Mr. Grissom, we raised our kids by ourselves, teaching them values like hard work, self discipline, and dedication to your career no matter what you chose to do. None of my children were spared that teaching, and each of them has done well, including my youngest child, Nick. You, on the other hand, in spite of your absolute brilliance as a criminalist, have no excuse for your poor treatment of my son. It was about shoddy supervisory skills at the most. You certainly wouldn't last in our jurisdiction, thank God."

With that last statement, Judge Stokes stormed out of the office leaving a bewildered and stunned Grissom to simply think, "Then I guess we've both done wrong by Nick."

xxXXxx

The yellow lab/terrier mix huddled in the corner of the cage, refusing to look at the dark-haired, dark-eyed man who tried his best to coax him out.

"C'mon buddy...wanna cookie?" Nick asked as he perched himself on his haunches, holding out a delicious dog biscuit shaped like a bone.

The dog was visibly shaking, its 40 pound body quivering with fear as he looked at Nick and then away, licking his chops. Its spine stuck out from its tiny frame, while its ribs protruded.

Nick knew better than to go in and try to get him to come out. One never approaches a cornered dog. He had been told that the dog was found tied up to a car in a dump. Nobody knew where he came from or who he was.

"Sweet dog. Too bad we can't work on him," a voice said from behind.

Nick stood up and looked around at an older, stout woman with dirty blonde hair. Her name was Veronica and she managed the humane society.

At first, she treated Nick with suspicion, wondering what someone like him in his field would want to do at a humane society with a bunch of stray dogs and burnt out, emotionally drained shelter workers.

Somehow he gained her trust, understanding how the animal world was complex with its workers feeling as if their good work never really mattered to anyone but them and that they had to deal with the dredges of society…idiot people who dumped their animals on them as if they were trash because they were too lazy to look after them. Sure, some had good reasons…allergies, but others just didn't care.

Nick understood perfectly how they felt.

"What happened to him?"

"Backyard dog… no socialization, no love, improper care." She sighed as if this was a normal state of being for the dogs. "Hopefully we can work with him."

"Or else?" Nick asked, unsure if he wanted to hear what words would spill out of her next.

"Well, we can't adopt a dog out that's traumatized, Nick," she told him. "And remember what I told you about getting emotionally attached to these guys. You're a big softie, gotta hand it to you, but you can't save em all."

"It's not his fault that he's traumatized. He was treated like shit by humans who got tired of the puppy stage and now he has to pay with his life." The Texan stared back at the dog who stared at him sadly as he made his way over to the bars of the cage and sniffed tentatively at his hands. "We don't do it to people."

"No, but people don't fear bite." Veronica stared pointedly at him.

Nick shrugged. "I feel like chewing off the heads of a few co-workers."

"Well if you do, we'll park you in the cell next to him," she joked, "Ten days in quarantine."

Nick laughed slightly. "C'mon, he's just nervous. He just needs a little compassion and understanding."

"I know, but it's a policy that a dog that's a risk to bite is not adoptable." She looked at him and then said, intentionally, "He likes cats." And with that she walked away.

Nick sighed and slowly knelt down before the dog who ran back to its corner. Its brown eyes stared at him woefully, and it curled into a ball and refused to budge.

"Hey buddy, wanna go for a walk?" Nick called.

The dog stared at him and stayed put.

The Texan looked at his watch and sighed. He was exhausted from an emotionally charged day with extreme highs and lows. Couldn't his life be balanced for once?

As he walked out he went up to Veronica who sat behind the desk filing. She looked up at him, amused.

"Hold onto him. I'll take him home to foster him tomorrow."

Veronica smiled. "I'll have the paperwork ready for you, Nick. You'll still come in and walk the bad ass dudes too, will you?"

"Oh yeah!" the Texan replied understatedly. "I'm the dog whisperer."

Mandy was waiting outside in her car for him, eager to see him and eager for the night to come.

"What's up?" she asked as she noticed his thoughts were elsewhere.

"Oh, just a dog in there. I couldn't get it to come out."

"He didn't fall for your charm like the rest of us do? Maybe he knows something about you that we don't." She grinned as he got into her car, having had his Tahoe towed off after it broke down at the humane society.

"Laugh it up, Mandy. They're gonna knock him off if something ain't done."

"Can't save 'em all, Nick," she said as she drove him home.

"I know that, but there's something about him that gets me right here." He pointed to his chest. "And he likes cats, and George likes dogs. When Grissom brought Hank over they played together."

"Depends on the dog, Nick," Mandy warned him, knowing where this was going. This was the fifth dog she'd talked him out of adopting. "What's special about this one?"

"He's scared of the world," he shrugged.

"So he needs an owner who's had the world kind of dump all over him to help him overcome the crap." She looked at him and said, "Remember, we've had this talk. You work long hours at your job, you barely have time for George, and he needs a lot of one on one."

"Yeah, but if someone was there along with me all the time then…" He didn't finish.

She cast a shocked look. "We're not nearly there either. Just take it easy. He'll be fine."

"No. They're gonna knock him off," Nick said, wondering if he was a dog would they knock him off because he'd been through the ringer and was ready to snap the hand off of anyone who showed him any kind of affection.

Mandy sighed wearily, "Okay, okay, I'll help you out."

Nick smiled. "They have a foster care program, and what do you know about dogs?"

"I watch the Dog Whisperer."

"So do I."

"And I had dogs growing up, so I know a little bit." Mandy looked at him and said, "And as for me living with you, when you get rid of that damn, ugly…no, fugly carpet, then I will ponder it...simply ponder."

"My T carpet?! It's not fugly!" Nick sulked.

"Dude, it's fucking fugly!" she said. "It's the fugliest fucking carpet I've ever seen in my life!"

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ditch it, but I was just too lazy and never home and decorating wasn't a priority for me." Nick smiled. "Get rid of the fugly movie poster in your living room if you ever decide to move in with me."

"That is my Boogie Nights poster. It's not going anywhere, and it's too soon for this conversation," Mandy groaned.

"We've known each other for eight years," Nick protested.

"We WORKED together for eight years and have only been dating officially since...a few days," Mandy reminded him. "But you can give me a key to your house."

"Yeah, that would work," Nick agreed. "And get rid of that poster!"

"Why? Feeling like you've got stiff competition from Mark Wahlberg? It was a prosthetic penis!" She smiled.

"Piss off!" Nick mumbled

"Oh, such a British expression you bestow on me, love! Kind of like the "Full Monty" movie when Robert Carlyle was getting ribbed by some friends for the video of him and his pals stripping being played on the news."

"No, he said 'Get shagged'," Nick corrected.

"Oh yeah, get shagged!" Mandy smiled. "You know, I could just imagine you, Warrick, Grissom, and Greg if you all got fired from the lab. You and Warrick would start a male strip club."

"Catherine could tutor us in pole dancing," Nick mumbled. "And Warrick and I could chase Grissom down at an interview and have gnomes dancing in the window to distract him!"

Mandy started to laugh at the clip and asked, "Let's go rent that movie?"

"But…what about the dog?" Nick asked pleadingly.

"Okay, I'll help you out with this dog!" she agreed. "Okay, Dr. Doolittle. I'll pick the movie up on the way home."

Nick grinned, happily thumping the air with a fist. "Thanks."

"And then you're doing a personal strip show for me in return!" Mandy shot him a seductive glance and a wink.

"Maybe," Nick said, "when that poster is gone!"

"Oh Nick, you're so insecure. No reason to be," Mandy yawned. "I'm going to get some laundry done, so I'll drop you off at home, okay?"

"Do you wanna do a layover at my house?" Nick asked and then faked a British accent, "I wouldn't mind shagging you for a bit."

"I could fit it into my schedule." She grinned as her loins did a happy dance. Then her cell phone rang and she groaned, "Oh god!" She picked it up and listened to it and sighed, "Sorry, Nick, I gotta get over to the lab."

"That's okay." He squeezed her hand and kissed her before getting out of her Ford Escort and watching as she drove off.

As he walked up his stoop he noticed oddities.

His front door was open, and George wasn't there to greet him.

Nick felt his heart speed up, wondering if he'd forgotten to turn on his alarm system. It was possible. He'd left in such a hurry today. There was something eerie about it all.

Whipping his piece out of its holster, he slowly edged the door open and slowly walked in.

Nick gasped as he took in his surroundings. His TV was smashed, the leather couch slashed. His degree ripped to shreads, the computer laid in pieces around the living room. It looked like a tornado had tore through the house.

"What the fuck happened?"

An arm wrapped around his neck, as his gun was yanked from him.

"Don't say a word, cowboy!"

_**A/N: Told you there'd be more smut and angst.**_

_**I know there was a lot in this chapter, but I'm eager to kind of move on to the next stage, so I hope I didn't over whelm you.**_

_**Kate Jackson is an actress who starred in the 1970s version of Charlie's Angels.**_

_**Oh yea and more angst, and smut to come.**_


	19. Chapter 19

**IRREVERSIBLE**

**CHAPTER 19**

_I will go east and go west_

_To the places from whence came_

_The moon and the sun_

_The moon and the sun will go_

_And the young man_

_With his reputation behind him_

_I will go wherever he came from -_

_The young man with his reputation behind him_

_**Theme From Harry's Game**_

_**By Clannad**_

_**Thanks for the reviews and for continuing the journey.**_

_**It gets harder for me to write this story with the departure of characters, but I will tread on.**_

_**FYI: I'm not a medical expert, so if I'm wrong on some elements here, please feel free to tell me.**_

_**Edited by Smokey!!**_

It was a rare event in their lives…a night off and the MO to celebrate it…visit an old friend.

This was the plan Greg and Warrick had agreed on as they drove along Freemont towards Nick's house.

Warrick was preparing to apologize to his friend for bashing his girl and for being an outright prick over the prison. Ditto for Greg, although he was quite happy for his buddy to at least be seeing someone of flesh and blood.

And they had chipped in for a gift…gifts in fact.

"So what do we say to Nick when we see him?" Greg asked as they rounded a corner.

"Sorry! And then offer the gifts," Warrick answered shortly. "No need to go into big long speeches."

"I'm nervous, man!" Greg sighed. "I've been a fucking asshole to him."

"Aww Greg," Warrick shook his head, "don't beat yourself up. Nick will forgive you as long as you're honest with him about why you've been acting like a jerk."

"I blamed him," Greg said, holding the bag containing a _Playstation 3_ along with the latest _Guitar Hero_. "What kind of fucking asshole blames the victim for a sexual assault?"

"Because it wasn't just any victim. It was Nick, your role model," Warrick answered. "I, on the other hand, gave him grief over his choice of female companionship."

"What's wrong with Mandy?" Greg asked, surprised. "She's a cutie and tons of fun. Good gamer too. I'd ask her out myself, but I was too chickenshit. But Nick got to her first, damn him."

"Nothing. I guess I always thought Nick should be with…never mind...as long as the guy is happy. He deserves it."

"Yeah, he does, and as for me...I'm also mad at myself for not being there," Greg said, pressing the handles of the bag together. "I mean, had I been there we could have fought them off."

"Hey man, don't be so hard on yourself." Warrick looked at the CSI. "What were you supposed to do? You were blocked from leaving the library, and maybe you couldn't have. Sometimes we kid ourselves into thinking if we were in a situation we would act like this or we would do this, but you never know until you're there."

"And...the worst part is…I'm glad I didn't see it. I could never, ever look at Nick the same way again. Guy was my hero for years, and knowing your hero was…degraded...that way…takes him down a notch," Greg stumbled along.

"He's still Nick!" Warrick corrected him. "Let's just go and talk to him and tell him we're cool with him."

"But I'm not," Greg told him, shaking his head. "I need time to deal with this."

Warrick shot him a glare. "You also need to put your own shit aside and support Nick. The guy's been like a brother to you, and now that he's had this...shit…happen to him, you…" Realizing he was calling the kettle black, Warrick changed direction. "...we...bailed on him," Warrick said. "Time to put an end to that, okay?"

Greg sighed, "I'll just tell Nick the truth. It's gonna fucking piss him off, but I'd rather just be honest, and then…after that...well…we'll see."

The sound of Warrick's cell phone interrupted them. As he answered, his jaw dropped and he said, "Thanks."

Greg looked at him, worried. What now?!

"Mrs. Matthews, Nick's wacky neighbor, phoned in. She found George sitting in a tree by her house looking scared. She went over to tell Nick to get his cat, and when she got there the house was trashed and she found some blood in the doorway. Brass is on the scene."

xxXXxx

Caution tape lined the small bungalow Nick rented. It was the smallest house on a picturesque street. A small garden had recently been planted…impatiens…flowers that survive any condition, including an often absent or absent-minded habitant such as Nick. He had told them Mandy had taken it upon herself to plant the flowers with his agreement on one condition…no gnomes, as they creeped Nick out.

Warrick and Greg held up their badges, slipped under the tape, and walked up to Brass who was talking on his cell phone looking grim. He saw the CSIs, hung up, and walked over.

"Well, seems like the way to get a 'get out of jail free card' is to have daddy slip the director a couple of grand and have him drive you into town to meet daddy in a restaurant. But surprise surprise…prisoner strangles director, dumps body over by Union Plaza, and I guess goes looking for his rape victim and kidnaps him."

"Did anyone see McVeigh leave with Nick?" Greg asked, feeling a surge of anger at the corruption that webbed its way across the Nevada Corrections Department and lord knows how far.

"No, must have slipped out the back. There's a hole in the fence in the back. We found a leather running shoe. Looks like one of Nick's." Brass shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head.

"C'mon George, get out of the tree!" A scratchy voice caught their attention. They turned and saw Mrs. Matthews standing under an elm tree, arms folded, cigarette dangling from her mouth, staring up at the tree.

Warrick walked over, looked up, and saw George hunched up on a limb, his fur on end and his eyes wide. "How long has he been up there?"

"Oh, a couple of hours?" she said and took a long drag and continued, "I saw him sitting there and Nick Strokes knows I don't like it when his cat is in the tree 'cause then he jumps on the roof and somehow gets into my attic, slips out my front door, and then goes off looking to steal stuff."

"Gonna help me get the cat down?" Warrick called. "We're not officially on duty. Cat might have evidence on him."

"I don't know anything about getting a cat out of a tree!" Greg shot back, knowing George's reputation as a psycho cat. "And that's not just any cat. That's a Rambo cat."

"Want me to go up and get him? He's okay…as long as you don't mind a little blood on you," Mrs. Matthews told the nervous CSIs.

"No point going up there anyway. He'll just climb higher," a voice said from behind.

Gil Grissom stood there with his kit, shades on, teeth clenched. Catherine stood behind him, her mouth steely.

"If he thinks that you're coming after him, he'll flee," Grissom finished.

"I don't know about that. We're talking about Nick's cat," Mrs. Matthews told him. "He's kind of psycho. He might attack you." She went off to her garage and was back a moment later with a ladder. She handed it to Greg who set it up against the tree and started to climb up, leaning over, extending his hand to the cat who recoiled instantly. Greg's eyes narrowed in on the object in George's mouth…a long strand of hair complete with a follicle. "Hey Gerard, give me that hair!" Greg called.

"His name is George, and he's not a dog, Greg!" Grissom called. "Cats don't respond to orders readily. Dogs are pack animals and respond to commands out of a need to be part of a pack. Cats are solo creatures."

"Gee, kind of reminds me of Nick," Brass mumbled and then called, "His name is George...named after some kooky guy on a crime show."

"Yeah, but Nick doesn't hiss or growl at me or look like he wants to rip my face to shreds," Greg called. "But that's on his good days." The CSI took a deep breath, leaned over, and snatched the hair while George snarled and jumped to a higher limb. He stared at Greg, orange eyes ablaze, while Greg tipped over the ladder and held onto a branch. Thankfully the branch was low enough that Warrick was able to grab him and lower him down.

"I'll have a cop get this to the lab and run a DNA sample," Greg announced as he bagged the sample.

They turned as they heard a female voice saying, "Let me through!!" Mandy was standing there arguing with the police. Grissom nodded at the police to allow her through. She was in her lab coat and rushed up, tears streaming down her face.

"I just dropped him off not too long ago," Mandy said to Grissom. "If I had known someone was in there...who could have done this?"

"Well, McVeigh got out of prison, so he's number one on the list."

Catherine flipped off her cell phone. "Cowell said that O'Flynn left about eight hours ago, disguised McVeigh as a prison official, and they left in his car…a black Toyota Camry, license plate 34546."

"License plate was found next to the body," Brass told her.

"So he's driving around with an illegal license plate or without any" Catherine said, frustrated.

"A BOLO's been put out for the car, but if he _does _have an illegal plate, how the hell would he get it?" Grissom asked, looking at the Under Sheriff who was at a loss for words.

"I'll take care of it," he told Grissom who studied him for a second and then, despite the nagging feeling he'd always had about the blue-eyed man, compartmentalized it.

Another car drove up and Nick's parents stepped out, looking grave as they saw the yellow tape around their son's house.

Grissom sighed heavily. He hated this part of the job.

Nick's mother's hair was tied back. She was a startlingly beautiful woman with dark, brown eyes and a very classy way about her. A real lady. Grissom had to admit the Stokes were a very good looking family, and Nick had inherited the best features of both his parents. Judge Stokes escorted her to the caution tape while Grissom nodded to the police to allow them through.

As Nick's father once said, Grissom decided to cut to the chase. "We don't have any information about Nick's whereabouts at this time, Judge Stokes, Mrs. Stokes, but we think we know who did this."

"McVeigh!" Judge Stokes snarled, his mouth in a deep frown. "I got word from a colleague that his daddy has been lining the pockets of some powerful people here in Nevada. I've been doing my own investigation as to what happened that day, Mr. Grissom. That whole situation at the prison was set up by McVeigh's father. He's been paying O'Flynn to overlook certain activities his son was engaged in, such as drug smuggling and other attacks on prisoners. He somehow arranged it so my son would be there that day. I don't have the details, but it seems strange that two prisoners were overlooked when the place went into lockdown."

"How did they know Nick would be there?" Grissom asked, not sure whether to believe this story given to Judge Stokes.

"There are a lot of corrupt people in your department, Mr. Grissom, a lot of them. Word was put out that he was on his way. Strangely, the cook on duty that day has disappeared, and the one person that knew what was going there was Conrad Noir!" Judge Stokes said, his eyes black with rage. "And my son, my youngest, got stuck in the middle of it."

"But why? Why this sort of attack on Nick? Seems extreme."

"Mr. McVeigh wasn't sure what his son was going to do to Nick. He just told him not to kill him!" Judge Stokes said angrily. "McVeigh's father was enraged when his son was attacked in prison and no one would do anything about it. An eye for eye, and McVeigh paid big bucks to get back at me. He claims he thought his son would rough the guy up a bit, but not in this sick, extreme way."

Grissom stomach coiled. "What the hell did he think his son was going to do? What kind of fucking idiot is he?"

"McVeigh's father is being shipped to Nevada as we speak."

"That doesn't bring Nick home!" Mrs. Stokes choked. "For all we know he's dead."

She turned to her husband. "So help me god, if he survives this he's coming home. I won't let him stay here. I will NOT let my son work for law enforcement with a shoddy, half-assed supervisor!" Her eyes blazed at Grissom, causing the man to cringe…a rarity. "And corruption beyond belief." She turned to Grissom. "My son worked so hard to please you! And all you did was put him down and treat him like garbage, Mr. Grissom. You are the worst criminalist, the worst supervisor I've ever seen and a hypocrite beyond belief. My son made one mistake when he started out in the field…that hooker. Oh yes, we knew. I knew. Then you go off and have relations with some dominatrix and that's okay. Then you date one of your underlings and that's okay!" Her hands were on her waist, but the supervisor was pretty sure they would rather be around his throat if she wasn't such a classy woman.

Grissom stood there, stunned, eyes wide at this depiction of himself from a stranger. Sometimes your actions look very different to other people, strangers, than they do to yourself.

Greg, Warrick, Brass, and Catherine stood by him, unsure of what to say. No one had ever spoken to Grissom like this before.

"Lois, just calm down," Judge Stokes told her. "You're only making things worse." The older man's eyes were brimming with tears that started to stream down. "Dr. Grissom, I'm sorry. My wife is just frantic. Lois, c'mon, let's go back to the hotel room."

"No, goddamitt. I won't!" she sobbed. "My son is missing! I'm not going to sit around like the last time and wait, wait, wait and wonder what these idiots are doing to find him." She looked at Grissom. "It doesn't matter how old they get, they are still your children…the ones you spent nine months carrying inside you! He's my youngest. He was the sweetest of all my kids. You don't have children do you, Mr. Grissom?"

"No, I don't," Grissom answered solemnly, his throat tight, never having been able to cope with mothers who have lost their children, regardless of how old the children were. "But I can tell you we are going to find your son if it takes every man and woman in the LVPD to find him. Judge Stokes, how did McVeigh know Nick was going to be there that day?" Grissom asked as the judge prepared to take his distraught wife away.

The older man stared for a moment and answered, "Good question. Maybe you need to keep your eyes and ears open for moles in your lab."

Grissom simply stared at him.

"What the hell is he talking about?" a voice growled from behind.

The bugman turned and looked at Under Sheriff McKeen and answered, "I'm not sure, McKeen, maybe it's something you need to consider?"

"There's no fucking mole in our lab, and if there was I don't think they'd plan that kind of sick attack on a CSI."

"Who knows what people are capable of? They'll use whatever weapon they know." Grissom then turned to head into Nick's house, watching as Mandy stood under the tree trying to coax George down.

"He'll come down when he's ready, Mandy," Grissom told her.

She faced him with tear streaked face. "Then I guess I have to stay here 'til he does," she choked, glaring at him.

"No, you need to go home and wait."

"What are you going to do to me, Dr. Grissom? Have the police drag me out of here?" she challenged.

Sighing heavily, Grissom relented, purely exhausted from the emotional upheaval, and went up the steps and into Nick's house.

A tornado could have gone through the place. The TV was smashed, and Nick's degree was not only smashed but ripped to shreds. Trophies were crushed and pictures of family and friends shattered. Even George's scratching post was not spared. It looked as if someone had taken a baseball bat and literally pounded it, the house part crushed in the middle.

Grissom walked through the house and into Nick's bedroom, smiling at the sight of candles melted on their stands. Obviously the guy had had some wonderful times before this. The bed was strewn and the comforter ripped apart. He checked the garbage pail nearby and saw some condoms in there.

Everything needed to be bagged.

Slowly, Grissom made his way out the back door and saw the shoe Brass had referred to. Nick's? Mandy would probably know. He bagged it and made his way out to the front where the lab tech stood under the tree where George sat.

"Mandy, do you know if this belongs to Nick?" he asked.

She looked at it. "Yeah, he was wearing that when he went to walk dogs at the humane society."

Grissom cocked an eyebrow.

"Something he just started doing." Her eyes were looking up at the tree.

"I'm sorry I have to ask this, but did you two get...have…?" Grissom asked, shifting uncomfortably. He wasn't one to pry into his CSIs' love lives. Frankly, he just didn't want to know.

"Yeah," Mandy said without missing a beat. "Last night was the first time. I was...giving him time to deal with the crap with Eponine."

Grissom thanked her and went back into the house.

Catherine was snapping pictures and said, "Blood spatter patterns, on the floor, the door knob. I was wondering if perhaps George was injured."

"Didn't look like that from where I stood."

"The volume is too small to be a gunshot or even a stab wound, so a fight might have ensued."

"There's a set of footprints, man's size 13, outside along with what looks like shoes that were dragged."

"Found a cloth on the floor, smells like ether," Warrick said as he drew the layout of the room.

"Ether...somehow this guy seems to know more about Nick than he led on," Grissom observed.

xxXXxx

"Wakey, wakey, cowboy!"

The cold feel of concrete greeted Nick as he opened his eyes and tried to move his head around. His vision was blurred and then the pain hit.

He tried to remember what happened to get him here…arm around his neck and then a fight as Nick jabbed the body pressed against him and tried to run, only to be spun around, his hair grabbed, and his head slammed against the door knob…his head brought up and a fist to his nose…feeling blood spurting from it. Then something smelly was placed over his face and blackness took him.

Nick pulled himself up on an elbow and looked around, disoriented, following the voice. The room was dark, save for one light bulb swinging from the ceiling.

It was the underground bunker where they had found the cult. That was the day he had to go underground for the first time since he was buried alive.

Nick looked up and groaned, "McVeigh...what...how…"

"It's interesting how money can buy your way out."

"What the fuck do you mean?" His vision blurred for a second and then eventually two images became one.

"O'Flynn is a good man, but that's what he wants people to think. He's not smart though."

Nick could see better now and saw that he was in the room where Grissom had found some stupid globe that lit up.

"I remember reading about you guys in this place," McVeigh said quietly. "We're just gonna stay here awhile and then we're going for a little walk."

Nick asked, "Where?"

"Oh, just a little walk. We're gonna have a little more fun though, and then I'm gonna give you a shovel, Nick Stokes, and you're gonna be buried again, only in a grave you make for yourself. Then you're gonna stand in front of it while I take this gun and blow your fucking head off...execution style. Before that, we're going down memory lane." McVeigh smiled at the thought.

The Texan was so weak he simply laid down on the floor, curling into a ball. Suddenly, he was shocked awake by the onslaught of ice water thrown on him. Nick shot up and gasped, "What the fuck?!"

"You're not going to sleep while we wait. We're going to do some talking, Nick," McVeigh said before putting the bucket down. He walked over with a shotgun in tow -Nick's shotgun - and told him to place his hands behind his back.

Nick did so, and McVeigh grabbed handcuff's - Nick's handcuffs - and locked them on him. Then he sat down cross-legged beside the beleaguered Texan.

"Why are you doing this?" Nick asked dully, staring down at the cement floor.

"I told you that if you breathed a word of this to anyone, I'd hunt you down and kill you," McVeigh answered, pulling a cigarette out of his pack and lighting it up.

"Wasn't me," Nick countered, "it was your friend there, Smith, who blabbed to his fellow inmates. My team followed the rumour to the evidence and then linked it back to you."

"So they did," McVeigh answered. "It doesn't matter, though."

"Why me?" Nick asked pulling his knees up to his chest and staring straight ahead, his voice flat with defeat.

"Why you?" McVeigh answered. "Because it was either you or your father I'd get back at for putting me jail. It was easier to get to you because knowing you, Nick, you'd rather be the one to take the hit instead of your father, and killing you would cause lifelong suffering for him. So either way, I win."

"They're gonna find us," Nick laughed morbidly. "They will."

"They won't have time. After this cigarette, we're going to go outside and you're gonna finish off that hole I started for you, and then we'll have some fun." He winked at Nick. "It should be less painful for you now. You're used to it. You was a virgin that day."

McVeigh laughed hideously as Nick blanched and looked around, scanning the area for any way out.

"Why don't you save yourself the trouble and just kill me? I'd rather be fucking dead than go through that again." Nick swallowed the bile building in his throat as his innards twisted amongst themselves at the thought.

"Oh, but it's not any trouble for me." McVeigh smiled through his goatee. "It's fun. I had fun with you that day."

"Don't...I don't wanna hear...it." Nick looked down at the floor, flinching as McVeigh put his arm around him and pulled him close to lick his ear. Nick tried to scuttle away, but McVeigh held onto him.

"I remember in high school how you used to walk around the hallways, all those girls just giggling when they saw you." Jealousy raged in his eyes.

"I never saw it," Nick said. "If they were giggling at me, it was because they thought I was a nerd. I was a 98 lb weakling. There wasn't anything special about me."

"You weren't a nerd, cowboy, you were everything I wanted to be, and if I had been more like you my father probably would have at least treated me a bit better."

"Your father?" Nick laughed sardonically. "Your father was a fucking drunk. He was too pissed to even acknowledge your existence, man. I know all about you, McVeigh. Your dad was an alcoholic and your mother ran off with a younger man. Your family was fucked up. No wonder you are."

McVeigh grabbed him by the hair and leaned him over to face him. "Who the fuck are you to talk about my family? Your family wasn't exactly the Cleaver family. Your father was a pompous asshole, sending people like my cousin to the chair."

"That was his job. Your cousin murdered an entire family!" Nick cried. "That's what he was supposed to do."

"Yeah, and your family…bunch of pious assholes. Y'all thought you were so perfect. Yet there was your brother getting a girl pregnant in high school."

"My brother married her. They're still married!" Nick countered. "They worked their way through college. He's a teacher and she's a social worker. Their kid is getting ready for college."

"Yeah, and you got brought in on public drinking."

"I was sixteen, and they brought me in but I didn't get charged. My dad came and got me and sent me to work on a pig farm for the rest of the summer," Nick said and continued, "Your other cousin came to the house and tried to kill us. I was 12, and I chased the guy off with a gun. It was only me and my mom at the time."

Nick thought back to when his father came home and he so proudly told his father what he did.

"_You should have killed him!" his father said angrily, not even looking at him, and walked off to the den._

_Nick's heart sunk and he went out and climbed into his tree house and drew for a while._

"Well, my dad...my dad...did a number on my brother," McVeigh said. "He was a real kiddie diddler. Then he took me when I was twelve, so I continued the food chain, especially after what happened to me in prison, because that's how it works, right?"

Nick glared at him and said, "No."

"How the hell would you know?!" McVeigh snorted.

"I just do." Nick looked straight ahead and noticed that the cigarette had grown smaller. He had to think fast, real fast. He didn't want to die, but he didn't want to be attacked again. He couldn't be attacked again, because that would be it for him mentally. He would go into a catatonic shock and never come out of it.

Either way, he was dead.

"Well, well, well!" McVeigh said knowingly as he studied Nick's face. "Seems my little cowboy here was a victim of a kiddie diddler too. Daddy Stokes must have really loved his boy."

Snarling, Nick raged, struggling against the handcuffs. "Don't you ever, ever fucking say that about my father!"

"Oh, so it wasn't daddy Stokes?!"

"No. My father would never do that to anyone!"

"Your mother!" McVeigh smiled.

"Fuck off!" Nick spit out.

"Oh, but you found yourself a little plaything at someone else's hand, Nick! Interesting!" McVeigh got up and started to pace around, his arms behind his back, staring down at Nick who was sitting with his knees to his chest, arms cuffed behind his back.

Nick shook his head and looked down at the floor. His arms were falling asleep from being shackled for so long.

"Cute girl I saw in the car. So hoping she'd come in with you. I'd give her a real show... her boyfriend getting it up the ass, and then I'd take her too. Maybe I will after I'm done with you."

Nick jackknifed up, enraged, and tried ram McVeigh who simply grabbed him by the back of his filthy shirt and scruffed him like a cat saying, "Down boy, down!"

"You leave her alone!" Nick snarled.

"Oh the ever brave, white knight, Nick Stokes…the guy who was buried alive. Boy you have no luck!" McVeigh dragged Nick over to the staircase. "March, cowboy." He grabbed the shotgun and pointed it at his back, poking him tauntingly.

Nick turned around once more and pleadingly asked, "Why did you do it, McVeigh?"

McVeigh leaned over and growled, "'Cause there's no greater way of bringing a man down, particularly a man in law enforcement, someone who is highly respected in his profession and now has to live with the fact that there are people above him who know he got it up the ass."

"So why kill me then? Why don't you let me live with that reality?" Nick vainly tried to convince him.

"Because I don't want you to survive and go on with your life. I want you to be gone from this earth and for Judge Stokes to live in grief." McVeigh was determined, and the look on his face said so. He stared hard at Nick. "It's time for you to go."

Nick's heart was racing like a cheetah as he noticed McVeigh's cigarette had dwindled down to the butt. He slowly ascended the stairs.

xxXXxx

Catherine walked over to Grissom, her face furtive. "Cowell just called. They've gone through McVeigh's cell. He has a scrapbook of all the cases our team worked on."

"Really?" Grissom answered, the wheels churning in his brain.

"And while this might be a stretch, he has a whole section on that compound where that cult was, including a map and coordinates."

Grissom said to Greg, "Come with me."

As Catherine made arrangements to have helicopters comb the area, Grissom hopped into his vehicle with Greg and sped off.

xxXXxx

Nick climbed the stairs, breathing hard. Despite the workout routine he'd engaged in, it didn't prepare him for this. Outside, an orange glow shone as the sun began to set. By Nick's calculations, he was brought here early this after afternoon. His mind raced, wondering if the team knew where he was or even that he was gone.

"Stop right there," McVeigh ordered.

Nick obeyed and heard/felt the man walk up behind him. He heard the click of the key as the handcuffs were unlocked. Relieved, he brought his arms around, but the momentary relief was simply that…momentary…as McVeigh slid an arm around his waist and pulled him up against him.

"You look pretty sweet there." Nick felt McVeigh behind him, and then his belt was grabbed and he was flush against the insidious body as a hand started fondling him again and McVeigh was whispering how they were going to have some fun before he finished digging his grave and he started to kiss Nick's neck.

_Oh Jesus, please not again, not again...please. _Nausea threatened to spew and his body froze at the touch.

Suddenly, to his relief McVeigh was shoving him away. "But you got some work to do, Nick!" He pointed to the shovel and the hole he had started. "Now dig."

Slowly, Nick hobbled over as it dawned on him that he was missing a shoe. He picked up the shovel. Using the shoed foot to press the shovel into the ground, he started digging while McVeigh watched. Instinct told Nick that help was coming. He just had to bide his time, so he worked slowly.

"Pick up the speed!" McVeigh ordered, poking him in the back with the gun.

Huffing, Nick looked at him. "I'm still dizzy a bit."

"Don't matter. Speed up a bit." McVeigh pulled out another cigarette and slid it into his mouth. "Nice cat you got! Kind of psycho."

"What did you do to George?!" Nick stopped digging.

"Nothing. Damn thing bit me good and ran off!"

Nick blew a sigh of relief. He hoped Mandy would take George in.

Dig. Toss. Dig. Toss. The Texan methodically dug at the hole, secretly praying; praying they'd come again.

_God, I haven't always been a good guy, but please, two things; spare my life, but spare my dignity. If that means my life, that's fine. Just look after everyone for me when I'm gone. _

Tears slid down his cheeks as he dug his own grave. He knew what they'd find. Grissom would probably be staring at the larvae around his body, the decomposing flesh. His flesh, his skin, his bones, his innards. All a feast.

Wiping the sweat out of his eyes, he looked up and saw that the sun was rising higher. Sweat formed little pools under his filthy grey t-shirt. His jeans felt like they weighed five hundred pounds and were hanging low on his waist exposing his boxers. Out of the corner of his eye he could see McVeigh holding the gun and studying him in a way that a man in a strip joint stared at a lap dancer.

Nick's skin crawled at the gaze as he dug.

"You sure look purty, all sweaty like that. I can't wait until we have some fun."

xxXXxx

Mandy watched the sun overhead as she sat under the tree waiting for George to come down. He had to at some point. The sound of radios rang around her, and she felt someone approach.

Catherine looked down. "Go home, Mandy. You're covered at the lab."

She shook her head. "I gotta wait for George to come down."

Catherine stared up and saw George sitting hunched up in the tree, eyes still wide. She tried to coax him, but the cat remained put. "Like cat, like cat owner," Catherine observed. "One very stubborn kitty belonging to one very stubborn man."

Mandy bit her lip. "Yeah, well I'm stubborn too, so I'm staying 'til he comes down."

XxXXxx

Helicopters hovered nearby, but not close enough to find them. McVeigh had told him if they came, he would drag him back into the compound and stay there until the coast was clear. McVeigh was slowly becoming unhinged, and Nick hoped he would before he did what he said he would do.

"Okay, that's deep enough!"

Nick huffed and puffed. He dropped the shovel and simply stood there limply. Every muscle and bone screamed in pain. His t-shirt was soaked in sweat and beads of the salty liquid dripped into his eyes. He wiped his eyes and looked out at the desert wondering if there was any sign of emergency vehicles. Where the hell were they?

All of sudden McVeigh had his arm around his waist and was nuzzling his neck. Nick squirmed feebly, hissing at the touch. McVeigh ordered him to turn around and get on his knees.

Sickened, Nick replied, "No!"

"Do it!"

"No!" Nick laughed sardonically. "I'd rather you fucking kill me." He meant it. He was ready to die rather than go through the horrors he experienced at the prison. "Just kill me, McVeigh. I'd rather be dead."

Seconds of silence ensued as Nick looked down at the ground, breathing heavily as sweat trickled down the sides of his face, and waited for the bullet…waited to feel cold steel against the back of his head.

It was okay, really. He had come near death so many times, Nick figured he had a one on one relationship with death. It had visited him three times before: when Amy Hendler held the gun to his head; when Nigel Crane threw him out the window and also held a gun at his head; and when he was buried alive. Hell, he could sit down with death and his buddies Buddha, Allah, and Jesus and have a real poker tournament. Elvis, Kurt Cobain, and Johnny Cash could join in too.

Maybe in his next life, he would come back to a more peaceful existence. Nick figured if there was a next life, he'd come back as a lazy house cat and have some babe serve him and his needs. Sex wouldn't be an issue because he'd probably have his balls chopped and therefore his only worries would be about food and a cozy place to sleep.

Nick didn't want to die, he wanted to live. But between death and being violated, he'd take death any day, anytime, anywhere.

He felt hot breath on his neck, and then McVeigh grabbed him and spun him around, forcing him down to his knees, but as the Texan went down he became acutely aware that his pocket knife was in his front pocket. He slid his hand in slowly while McVeigh undid his fly, telling Nick exactly what he wanted the Texan to do.

Stealthily, Nick pulled the knife out as McVeigh rambled away and in one swift motion he jabbed the knife deep into his thigh. A blood-curdling scream erupted from McVeigh as Nick jumped back and then like a cat fluidly turned around and raced off.

Fight or flight. Nick had done the fight and now he was in flight. As fast as he could, he pumped his legs hard, his one remaining shoe coming off, and ran off into the desert. He didn't know where he was going. The sound of another helicopter filled his ears and he raced toward it.

Hot breath tickled the hairs on his neck, and then dumb luck came upon Nick as he stumbled over a rock. McVeigh grabbed him by the back of his shirt, yanked him up, and whipped him around to face him, hands placed tightly on his throat.

"You fucking son of a bitch!" McVeigh's hands were wide, his fingers long and powerful, and they closed in on Nick's throat like a python, closing off his airway.

Nick gripped at the hands, grunting and squeaking, but the pressure had immobilized him. He tried in vain to release the grip, but McVeigh was strong. His hands were vice-like around Nick's neck; the adrenalin from years of rage now in control. Nick dug as hard as he could, but the pain and the lack of oxygen was weakening him.

He couldn't move.

He couldn't breathe.

He croaked, "Please!"

Nick opened his eyes and saw the fury and the madness in McVeigh's eyes, and slowly his vision faded as darkness closed in. His body was slumping down, turning on itself and losing control of its mechanisms.

_After 50 seconds, the victim loses consciousness._

Blackness was taking over as the last bit of oxygen he had slipped away. McVeigh's grip on his throat blocked the carotid arteries, preventing oxygen from reaching his brain, and the jugular veins, preventing re-oxygenated blood from leaving his brain.

He was on the ground, McVeigh on top of him still choking him and telling him what nasty things he was going to do to his body when he was good and dead. As darkness overtook him the last thing Nick heard was two loud bangs.

Stunned, Greg Sanders stood there panting heavily as he lowered the gun and watched in almost slow motion as McVeigh's body slumped over Nick. Then the back of Grissom was in front of him, pulling the muscle-bound man ofthe Texan's crumpled's body before kneeling down beside the crumpled body and listening for breathing, then palpitating his wrist.

They had raced out to the compound only to find the empty gravesite. Then they heard shouting and spotted McVeigh's hair flying behind him with his hands around Nick's throat. He was on top of Nick, strangling him with his hands, but stopped and jolted as the bullets hit him in the side of the head.

Adrenalin jumpstarted Greg as he raced over, bent down, and gulped as he studied Nick's battered, swollen face, his neck red from the grip on it.

Grissom sat up and studied Nick's face. "Shit! He's in cyanosis, Greg."

"Fuck!" Greg shouted as he watched Nick's face turning blue. He flipped open his cell and started shouting coordinates to Dispatch.

Grissom swallowed hard. Sweat brewed on his forehead as he examined Nick's hideously red throat. There was a possibility that the larynx had been crushed, therefore the airway could be blocked.

There was no time to lose as Grissom looked at McVeigh and saw the pocket knife sticking out from his thigh, indicative of Nick's attempted escape. He snatched it out and began to gently probe the Texan's neck, then gently tilted Nick's head back slightly to access his neck better.

What the entomologist planned was deadly, but leaving Nick as is while waiting for the MedEvacs to arrive was even more fatal. Grissom knew he had little choice.

"What are you doing?" Greg asked angrily.

Grissom looked up and answered briskly, "A cricothyroidotomy! I have to establish an airway!"

"What?!" Greg wanted to grab the knife out Grissom's hand. The man could not perform such a procedure out in the fucking Nevada desert. Not only was it illegal, it was dangerous. He could hit an artery.

"He's not breathing, Greg. If we don't get oxygen into him, he will be brain dead within minutes!"

"You might kill him!" Greg snapped.

"He'll die if I don't do anything! Now for fuck's sake hand me a pen!"

Greg found a run of the mill Bic pen. Grissom told him to empty it and give it to him. Immediately he sought out Nick's Adam's apple, placed a finger on it, and moved about an inch down his neck until he felt another bulge, the cricoid cartilage, and sighed with relief as he now had located the cricothyroid membrane where the incision was to be made.

"You could cut an artery, Grissom!" Greg warned not able to hold back. "You could hit a vertebra and leave him paralyzed for life."

"Shut up, Greg!" the supervisor snapped, knowing full well the risks.

Grissom took a deep breath, placed the knife on Nick's neck, and cut a half-inch horizontal incision. He breathed a sigh of relief knowing he was successful. Given how little blood he saw, he hadn't hit an artery. Hopefully, he hadn't hit a vertebra. Next, he slid a finger inside the incision to open it, grabbed the empty pen from Greg, and inserted it into the wound one inch deep. Once it was inside, he leaned over and blew two quick breaths into the empty pen. He paused for five seconds and then repeated it every five seconds until he could see Nick's chest rising and falling.

Greg, who had knelt down, gasped in relief, "You did it!"

Grissom watched as Nick's chest continue to rise and fall, and then studied his face to see if the CSI would regain consciousness, confirming the procedure's success.

The Texan's eyes fluttered open and darted around before settling on Grissom's face. He tried to speak, but Grissom shook his head at him. "No talking. Just hang in there. We'll be at the hospital soon." The sound of blades beating the air was drawing closer to them and within minutes a voice was shouting at them.

Grissom yelled to the first one, "Nick Stokes, age 36, manual strangulation! I performed a cricothyroidotomy to establish an airway!"

"How long ago?!" a woman in her early sixties, but as fit as any twenty year old, shouted back.

"About 3 mintes ago!" Grissom shouted, noticing disc-like bruises forming around Nick's neck along with scratches where the Texan might have been grabbing to release the grip.

Nick's eyes opened again and he looked around, confused.

"It's okay, Nick," Grissom assured him. "You're going to be fine."

The EMTs worked diligently, gently strapping Nick to a stretcher with a neck brace, while shouting instructions to the pilot that he needed to be at a hospital facility within 45 minutes. That was as long as the makeshift tracheotomy could remain.

As Nick was lifted into the helicopter, Greg trotted over. "I wanna get in there with him."

Following, Grissom stopped him. "I should…" But Greg's brown eyes were determined and he relented. "I've got to wait for Dave to pick up the body anyway and talk with Brass."

"Thanks. I owe it to him." Greg smiled and crawled in carefully, staying out of the way of the medic who was inserting an IV into his friend.

Blackness eased away as Nick darted his eyes about. Blurrily he looked up at an older woman who told him to hang in there and then to his surprise he saw Greg Sanders' face.

"What..." Nick tried to talk, but it came out choked. Something was in his throat.

The EMT shushed him. "No talking," and then to Greg, "We're going to sedate him again. It's important that the airway does not under any circumstances get blocked."

"You heard that!" Greg smiled down. "Keep that big mouth of yours shut. I know it's hard for you to do, but together we can do it."

Smiling faintly, Nick blinked his response.

Then Greg's face grew solemn. "McVeigh is dead, Nick."

Nick stared at him in disbelief as Greg repeated again, "He's dead."

The Texan's eyes widened as it sunk in and then finally he felt relief, a boulder-sized weight off his shoulders.

xxXXxx

They gathered around McVeigh as Super Dave readied the body for transportation back to Vegas. Grissom described the events to Brass, Ecklie, and the Under Sheriff.

"Hopefully, the tracheotomy worked?" Ecklie pondered. "I guess you didn't have much choice in the matter, Grissom?"

"There was a high risk of Nick going into cardiac arrest had I not done the procedure," the entomologist explained.

"There's going to be an investigation into what happened to lead to this," Under Sheriff McKeen said. "I spoke further to Judge Stokes, but there is nothing I can tell you at this time other than that this was a transaction between O'Flynn and McVeigh's father."

"Really," Grissom speculated. "It's that simple?"

"As far as I know," McKeen said and walked away saying, "Keep me posted on Stokes' condition. I'll have flowers sent to the hospital."

"Why don't you make a donation to the Vegas Humane Society instead?" Grissom called.

"We could do that," McKeen said as he got into his car.

Brass turned to Grissom as the Under Sheriff drove away. "I smell a rat."

"So do I," Grissom said. "But unless we find the nest, there's nothing we can do."

xxXXxx

Mandy sat in the waiting room along with Nick's parents. She studied their features and could see where her guy got his good looks from.

"How long have you been dating my son?" his mother asked.

"A couple of weeks," she answered, feeling the heat of their stare, wondering if they were measuring her up. "But I've been working with him for eight years."

"You seem like a lovely woman, Mandy. Short for Amanda?" Judge Stokes asked.

"Yeah," Mandy nodded relieved. "Amanda Webster. Thanks for the compliment."

The sound of footsteps approaching caused them to look up as a doctor walked in and called Nick's parents' names.

"I'm Doctor Zamar," the doctor with gold eyes and dark skin said.

"Zamar," Mandy thought. "Egyptian."

"I'm the emergency physician who treated your son," he said in heavy middle east accent. "We've run a larynscopy to survey the damage and there's been some damage to the larynx, but he's lucky to be alive. If his colleague hadn't performed cricothyroidotomy on him in the desert, a very dangerous procedure, he would have been dead.

The three of them stared at him for a second.

"Who?" Mandy asked.

The doctor looked at the file. "Um...a…Gil Grissom?"

Stunned the trio looked at one another before his father asked, "Can we see him?"

"For a few minutes. He's heavily sedated right now."

xxXXxx

Noises infiltrated the blackness. They sounded muffled. Some sounded like machinery, while others sounded like people.

"Pancho?" one of them said.

Nick opened his eyes, felt his throat, and mumbled, "Hurts…so…bad." Was that his voice? Christ he sounded like a masculine version of Mrs. Matthews!

"Mr. Stokes, I need to ask you to not to talk."

Nick wanted to laugh.

_That's easy. I feel like my voice box was ripped out of my throat._

He turned his eyes to a familiar face, and then two more of them appeared.

Mandy bit her lip to keep from gasping. Nick's face and neck were bruised, swollen, and scratched. His face looked like_ Picasso_ painting His father motioned for her to come closer, and she leaned over, terrified.

_My god, if loving someone means this kind of pain…I don't know if I can handle this. I'm not that strong, I love him but can't deal with his angst._

Mandy shook her head, angry at these intrusive thoughts and then looked down at him and then said through emerging tears, "Hey you."

Nick nodded and reached up to stroke her cheek. She grabbed his hand and held it tightly, and finally spoke in a broken voice, "You can keep your fugly carpet!"

With his other hand, he gave her thumbs up.

"Time for him to get some rest before we run more tests on him." The doctor ordered.

All of sudden, Nick felt a heaviness in his chest and blackness greeted him once more as the last thing he heard was, "Code Blue!!"

_**A/N:**_

_**The lyrics above were originally sung in Irish Gaelic. It was the theme song of a three part British television series in the 1980s called Harry's Game chronically the troubles in Northern Ireland where a British soldier is sent undercover to kill an IRA assassin.**_

_**It's an absolutely beautiful, haunting tune. I highly recommend you check it out on YouTube. I wrote this chapter while listening to it.**_

_**Some of the stories of Nick's childhood are actually stories George Eads shared about his own life as a kid.**_

_**I'll share them with you in case you didn't know.**_

_**When he was sixteen, he was brought in by the police for public drunkenness. As they brought him to the station, the cops joked, "We got the D.A.'s boy here!" His father was very, very angry with him and allegedly sent him off to do some hard labour as his punishment. **_

_**When he was about 12 or 13, his father was prosecuting a murder trial. A biker had murdered a family. Another biker smashed tried to break into their house and murder them while George and his mother were home alone at the time. **_

_**George ran a got a gun while his mother held the door. He pointed the gun out a .**_

_**window and the biker dude ran off.**_

_**However, when his dad got home, he basically told poor George that he should have shot the guy. **_

_**Poor guy! **_


	20. Chapter 20

**IRREVERSIBLE**

CHAPTER 20

_**No I don't wanna battle  
From beginning to end  
I don't wanna cycle  
Recycle revenge  
I don't wanna follow  
Death and all his friends**_

_**Cold Play -Death and All His Friends**_

___Light, bright light so warm and so inviting._

___Clouds swirled around, mists, where the fuck was he?_

___Nick stood before the light as it flashed in strobe-like fashion, swirling and twirling as it whispered to him, taunted him, and assured him that if he came toward it he would be fine. He looked down and he was wearing the same clothes he wore the day he got buried alive; black t-shirt and blue jeans. _

___The light was warm, luminous, and inviting, and it was talking to him. No, Nick couldn't hear a voice, but he felt its voice and the peace - a peace he hadn't had since he was nine years old. It was irresistible, and so he followed it because all he wanted was peace. If this was death, then hot damn-he struck a goldmine. _

___The light spoke to him again saying peace was there and to follow its warm beam._

___So Nick did. He was ready. He took a step forward. Then another. Then another._

___No more pain. No more vengeful psychopaths ready to bury him alive, hold him at gun point or commit the ultimate crime against him._

_"__Hey, where do you think you're going?"_

_"__Wheret does it look like?" Nick turned around and saw...George...sitting on the head of a stone whitewashed angel, the angel's hands clasped, eyes to the sky, with a ruby tears encrusted to its cheek._

_"__And leave me here on earth, alone, stuck with some dumb name?" George glared at him and then licked a paw._

___Nick looked around as the mist continued to swirl. George's voice sounded so far away, yet so close. He heard other voices in the distance, shouting and yelling orders, then a high-pitched squeal followed. _

___He swore he heard someone yelling, "Clear!"_

___Thunder rolled through the mist. George and Nick looked up at the sound. Lights flashed and voices screamed numbers._

_"__What's wrong with your name?" Nick asked. "And where the hell am I? And what did you do to make all this happen?"_

_"__You named me after some guy who can't make up his mind about his hair. Geeze. Buzz cut, Beatle look, military look..." George complained as he leaned over and licked what remained of his balls, a saggy sack, and looked at them sadly, "Least he still has his balls as far as we know."_

_"__Oh, don't start on me about that," Nick whined._

_"__I'll never forgive you for this, Nick! Bad enough I have to listen to you snore like a freight train in bed and talk endlessly about stuff. And next time you visit Taco Bell and eat a bean burrito, take some Gas X before you go to bed. That way I don't have to put my paw over my nose when I'm sleeping."_

___Nick stood back. He did what in bed? Geeze, if only the women who had the hots for him knew. It was bad enough that Mandy told him his morning breath reeked. Hey, he was human! He did all the same things that humans do, flatulence included, thank you very much._

_"__First of all," he told the cat, "there are too many unwanted pets in the world. I see it whenever I go walk dogs at the humane society. Secondly, about my manners in bed, IT'S MY BED and I will do what I feel like in it, and if you don't like it go sleep on the couch. You know, the one you stuck holes in."_

___George cocked his feline face at him, turned around, and flicked his tail at him, hopping off the statue, the mist clearing from the bottom where a small, clear green vase stood with white roses in them._

_"__Don't give me the feline finger!" Nick called after him and then noticed the bottom of the statute for the first time and gulped. _

___It wasn't a statue. It was a tombstone. He crouched down on his haunches to read the epitaph._

___And all shall be well_

___And all shall be well_

___And all shall be well_

___As Nick Stokes is going straight to hell_

___August 18, 1971-?_

___Nick stood back up and rubbed the back of his head, wondering why there wasn't a death date on there. _

___He looked around for George. Where the hell was that cat now?_

___He heard his name being shouted in the distance along with "Clear!"_

___Thunder pounded, and Nick fell over feeling a vertigo sensation as if his body was swirling and swirling. Then he landed with a thud in front of a round table._

_"__Oh, I'm sure Grissom would be quoting Dante at this moment, so which layer am I in now?" Nick stood up and brushed himself off._

___A voice called to him, "Welcome Nick Stokes."_

___There were four figures at the table. One was a roly-poly Asian man dressed in a red robe. One was a hippie guy in robes. And the other guy? Cloaked in black? Nick couldn't see his face but saw the staff he carried. Resting against the back of his chair._

___Warily he approached the table, staring at the crew._

_"__Have a seat, Nick. We're just getting started on our game," hippie man said with a kind smile._

___Nick slowly walked over to the table and sat down while George sat with a huge cigar in his mouth. The Texan snatched it. "You don't smoke, George!"_

_"__My namesake does!"_

_"__If your namesake jumped in the ocean, would you go in too?"_

_"__Yeah, because he might not know how to swim."_

___Nick rolled his eyes as the others laughed._

___The fat man leaned over and introduced himself, "I'm Buddha!"_

___Nick eyed him, confused. What the fuck? Then he turned his head slowly and gazed at the hippie who introduced himself, "Hello, I'm Jesus! Allah would have been here, but he's rather busy these days dealing. Very busy."_

_"__What the …" Nick began, and Jesus stared him sternly as he finished, "…fudge?"_

___Then he looked at the cloaked figure who nodded, and Buddha said, "His name is Death; better known as the Grim Reaper."_

___Nick gulped and nodded at Death who shuffled the cards and then handed them out._

_"__We're not real poker players, Nick," Jesus said. "Do you mind if we play Crazy Eights?"_

_"__Okay." Nick picked up his cards and stared at them, then felt someone patting his shoulders._

_"__I don't have opposable thumbs," George said. "Can you hold mine too?"_

___Sighing, Nick lifted up the cards while trying to balance his own, but that was hard when the suits started piling up and George was trying to tell him which card to put down._

_"__Alright, let's call this a game," Buddha said after Jesus won and glowed. A red-headed waitress came over and set a jug of beer and five glasses down. Nick snatched the glass away from George._

_"__I wanna have a beer," the cat whined._

_"__You're a cat. You don't drink beer," Nick ordered and handed the red-haired waitress the glass back. "And you're underage. In human years you'd be seven, so beer is out."_

_"__You're mean!" George glared._

_"__No, I'm trying to look after you."_

_"__How do you expect to look after me when you can't even look after yourself?" George said as a paw swatted at his playing cards._

_"__Pardon me?" Nick asked as his eyebrows rose; if he had eyebrows. Right now his body felt surreal, as if he could see right through himself. _

_"__To keep the body in good health is a duty, otherwise we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear." Buddha smiled kindly._

_"__What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world but loses his soul?" Jesus told him._

_"__What are you guys talking about?" Nick said, feeling as if he were stuck in a room with Grissom. Two Grissoms and one Doc Robbins. Leaving his cat to be Greg?_

_"__They mean, Nick, that in spite of everything you are still filled with rage," George told him. "The anger at the wrongs done onto you has left irreversible damage to you. Your soul is in trouble."_

_"__I don't have a soul," Nick mumbled, slumping in his chair._

_"__We all have a soul, Nick," Jesus told him. "Life doesn't end just because the body has."_

___The Texan glared at Jesus. "Yeah well, I have a lot of reasons to be angry, man, because your God let a lot of crap happen to me. So forgive me for being angry and vengeful to those who have wronged me." Nick sat back up._

_"__You will not be punished for your anger. You will be punished by your anger," Buddha told Nick as he sipped his beer and smiled. "Awww…good Canadian beer. The American stuff is so watery."_

_"__I made wine once," Jesus said, sipping his beer. "I didn't do such a bad job given that I only had water to work with." Then he looked kindly at sulking Nick and said, "An eye for an eye isn't always the best course of action, Nick. Sometimes you just gotta let God take care of those who've wronged you. Hey, look at me. I got strung up on a cross."_

_"__Yeah, but that's what God had in mind for you," Nick said. "That was your destiny."_

_"__Yes, and maybe he's allowed these horrible ordeals to happen to you because he knew you could handle them."_

_"__If there was a God, there wouldn't be a need for people like me," Nick retorted, looking down at himself and noticing he had his CSI vest on. When did that happen?_

_"__There will always be evil people in the world, Nick. That's why there are people like you there; to keep others safe. You're like the shepherd tending to his flock." Jesus picked up the cards and began to shuffle them. _

_"__So why do people keep getting murdered on my watch?"_

_"__Because the evil creatures that kill them are every bit as intelligent as you are," George said and added, "Of course, I'm far smarter than you are, Nick."_

___Nick made a face at his cat who growled back, "Life sucks man. My life has sucked-it's suckage galore."_

_"__That doesn't mean you give up like you wanted to a few weeks ago when you swallowed the Trazadone and tried to slit your wrists," Jesus sighed. "God gave you life and now you want to throw it away because of evil. You'll let evil win."_

_"__Good thing you had that bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide. If you hadn't drank that stuff and puked, you'd be dead," George said. "And then what would I have done? Did you think of me at that moment? Or your mother and father and your brothers and sisters or your colleagues?"_

_"__No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path," Buddha said as he sipped his beer and sighed._

_"__I got so much rage in me, it's like a pressure cooker ready to blow a hole into this place," Nick said his voice low. "So much hate."_

_"__Hatred does not cease through hatred at any time," said Buddha, eyeing him sternly. "Hatred ceases through love. This is an unalterable law."_

_"__I love too. I love Mandy, I love my parents, my siblings, and my cat." George head-butted Nick on the chin and mumbled something about healthy man-cat love. "I loved Eponine. God I loved her, but she walked out on me. She saved me from myself."_

_"__Awww," Jesus said. "You're wrong there. She didn't save you. You saved yourself because your conscience made you realize that to kill McVeigh would be the ultimate act of evil and you would have continued the revenge cycle, the irreversible cycle of revenge."_

___Buddha gulped the last bit of his beer, turned to Nick, and held up a plump finger. "And remember this, Nick, about hate…all that we are is the result of what we have thought. If a man speaks or acts with an evil thought, pain follows him. If a man speaks or acts with a pure thought, happiness follows him like a shadow that never leaves him."_

_"__Well, this crap that happened to me will stay with me forever," Nick mumbled, wondering why his beer glass was empty. He turned a frustrated eye to George who was licking his frothy paw when he noticed Nick's glare._

_"__What?!" The cat asked innocently._

_"__So Jesus, tell me," Nick asked, pouring another beer for himself, keeping it out of George's reach, and turning to the hippie-like man, "why didn't God stop those two men from raping me? Why did he let Nigel Crane throw me out a window? Why did he allow Walter Gordon to bury me alive?"_

___George strolled across the back of the chair and began licking the froth._

_"__God gives us free choice, Nick. It was their choice to do what they did, but one of them had enough insight to realize what he did was wrong and chose not to pull the trigger, so God did work through at least one of them," Jesus answered. "And as for the others, God worked through you, giving you the strength to survive those events. Each time you grew stronger. Yes, more bitter too, but stronger emotionally and more empathetic to other victims. In essence, you epitomize the good in people."_

_"__There has to be evil so that good can prove its purity above it,__" Buddha said._

_"__Hey beer!! Great!!" _

___Nick turned to see Kurt Cobain and Johnny Cash walking up to the table. They sat beside him._

_"__Hey, Nick!" Kurt said. "Welcome!"_

_"__To where?!"_

_"__The afterlife man!" Kurt took the jug and started drinking from it._

_"__Manners, young man!" Johnny shook his head and held out a hand to Nick. "Good to see you, son."_

_"__Oh hold on there. Wait for me." Elvis strolled up in his white, sequined suit. "Hello, Nick! How's Vegas these days? You should have seen it when I was performing there and you were nothing but a speck in your daddy's eye."_

_"__Am I dead?" Nick looked over at Death who had remained quiet the whole time._

___Suddenly, smoke rose around them and then Nick was alone and staring around, frightened._

_"__It's okay, Nick, don't be scared." _

___He turned and saw her: Eponine, and then she turned and ran off._

___He ran after her, calling her name, pleading for forgiveness and pleading for her to come back, that without her he felt empty and alone._

Clouds were replaced by bright light…a different kind of light…fluorescent light. Sounds filled his ears as he blinked to try and make sense of it and then tried to say something, but the sound came out hoarse and scratchy. His throat ached.

"I'm just going to give him a shot of Atavin," the familiar voice of Dr. Zayid said to a man beside him. "This should bring his heart rate down. I'm not sure why it's so high."

His blue eyes caught Nick's confused brown eyes and the doctor smiled. "Well, hello there, Nick. You gave your dad here a bit of a scare when your heart rate went up a bit."

Nick tried to sit up and rip the tubing out of his arm, but a hand held him it down.

"Now's not the time to be stubborn, boy." His father, eyes bloodshot and his face scruffy, looked down on him.

"You should start to feel relaxed in a bit, Nick," Dr. Zayid said. "You sure are keeping me busy at the rate you're going. I should write a paper on you. You're a textbook case."

Nick smiled and tried to speak, "Yeah, call it the Nine Lives of Nick Stokes: A Human Cat." He didn't like the way his voice sounded…hoarse, like Mrs. Matthews' scratchy voice.

"Try not to talk too much, Nick. Your larynx was compressed, enough so that your airway was blocked. Your boss, Gil Grissom, performed a procedure known as a circythyroidotomy on you."

Nick stared up confused as Dr. Zayid continued, "He used a pocketknife to cut an opening on your neck and inserted an empty pen. He saved your life."

The Texan blinked. His boss saved his life. Holy shit! Sorry, Jesus.

"We performed a proper tracheotomy to establish a secure airway, and then did a fiberoptic laryngoscopy to determine the damage. Thankfully the damage was not as severe as was thought. You're going to have to minimize your use of your voice box."

Nick tried to say something, but his father shushed him. "Thank you, Doctor Zayid," Nick's father said, and the doctor smiled and walked out.

His father pulled up a chair and held his hand tightly. "Get some rest, son."

The Atavin kicked in and Nick slept again, dreamlessly, and then woke up to an older woman needing to take some blood. He looked at his dad who was still sitting in the same chair reading a magazine, watching as Nick sat up painfully, held out his arm, and tried to talk again. The sound came out a little better this time and he croaked a "Hi" to his dad.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, son. It was a close call out in the desert. If your boss hadn't done that tracheotomy, you would have been a goner. The bruises on your neck, your face...Jesus, son, and then in the ER, we nearly lost you."

"Too bad," Nick mumbled hoarsely.

"You don't feel that way, do you, son?" His father looked confused.

Nick nodded. "Yeah, I do." His eyes filled with tears. "McVeigh might be dead, but there's someone else out there ready to get me, get you, get our family…"

Judge Stokes's eyes filled with tears. "You've got a lot to live for, Nick, and it's part of the profession, son. I told you years ago the risks involved with fighting the criminal element of our society."

Nick swallowed the bile in his throat. The pain was unbearable, but he managed to say raspily, "He didn't...he didn't…do...anything this time to me. He didn't get a chance 'cause I stabbed him in the leg."

"That's good," his father said. "You fought hard."

"As hard as I could. Last time there were two of them...Dad...they had a gun to my head." Nick turned his head away.

His father shushed him. "It's over, son. McVeigh is dead. He's gone."

Nick looked at his dad again, tears filling his eyes. "You'll never look at me the same way, will you?"

Judge Stokes sighed heavily and walked to the window where the sun shone in. He said, "I'm just grateful you're alive. When we thought you were gone, the pain I felt was incomprehensible. A father shouldn't have to bury his child, Nick. It's the other way around. When that Code Blue rang, all I could think was that you're supposed to be the one burying me."

Nick stared up at the ceiling dully, tears streaming down his face. "I'd rather be dead." Catching the pain in his father's eyes when he said that, the Texan asked, "Do you know what he did to me at the prison?"

His father turned to him, tears streaming down his own face. "Yes, I do. I do for sure know what he did. You were outnumbered in there."

Nick didn't want to listen, because he didn't want to live anymore. McVeigh hadn't …sodomized him this last time, but he could feel him grabbing him, hear the words, and remember his face as his airway was cut off…those hideous eyes of no color.

"I'm sorry about the way I handled things after I got the letter. I was just so damn shocked. I haven't read your case though. Grissom won't let me near it, saying you asked the judge to lock it up."

Nick looked at his father, eyes blank. "You don't need to know the details, Dad. I'm sure the letter filled you in, and what wasn't in the letter you could fill in blanks." He grimaced because his fucking throat hurt so bad.

"Son, I've convicted enough people to have a very, very good idea of what happened to you, and it hurts like hell to know that my child went through that. I even sought out his father to have it out with him, but couldn't reach him. Not surprised.

"Well, McVeigh's dead now," Nick sighed, and then his nostrils flared as he choked out, "And I'm not sorry he is. Not for one fucking second. I hope he rots in fucking hell!"

"I'm sorry it took your nearly dying to…" Judge Stokes choked back sobs and continued, "to realize that what happened doesn't change a damn thing about how I feel about you, and that I love you, your mom loves you, and we're proud of who you've become."

A forever tension between them seemed to relax as Nick drank in his dad's words. Then his father looked at him sternly as he said, "And I don't want to hear this silly talk about doing yourself in ever again, Pancho."

Nick teared up hearing his nickname used by his dad. He never thought he'd hear it again after McVeigh.

"Because it doesn't matter what life throws at you, you fight it!" Cisco said. "You challenge the obstacles. Right?"

Pancho nodded. "Right!"

Cisco sat on the bed and squeezed his hand tighter. "It's hard for me to say this, but...I love you, Pancho."

"I love you, Cisco," Nick choked out, and cleared his throat and sat up painfully. His throat ached with each movement.

The judge leaned back and said, "Met your girlfriend, Mandy. Nice lady. She's smart. Met your cat. He's a…sure he's not a dog? He sat on your stoop there growling at everyone before your girlfriend took him over to her house."

"He's a cat, last time I looked," Nick answered. "He's a strange cat."

The door opened slowly and they turned to see Grissom standing there with a gift basket wrapped in cellophane, and behind him was none other than Sara Sidle dressed in jeans and a tight-fitting shirt, her hair longer than ever and swept to the side. Black circles had formed heavily under her eyes.

"Dr. Grissom." Nick's father stood up and walked over to greet him as the brunette CSI walked over and sat down, scooping a surprised Nick into her arms.

"What? You think I wasn't coming?!" She smiled. Her gap-toothed grin was a welcome sight.

"I thought you were in Africa." Nick held her arms, so glad to see his old friend.

"I was until I heard the news. I flew home right away to see you." Tears slipped down her cheeks as she touched his grubby, longish hair. "You look like shit!"

"Yeah, I guess when you get throttled you're supposed to look great. My doppelganger on that crime show would so demand hair product, even if he was beaten to a pulp," Nick chortled.

Sara laughed and clasped his hands tightly.

"Nick," Judge Stokes said, "I'm going to go back to the hotel and check on your mother. She had a migraine earlier and needed to lie down. Stress."

"That's fine," Nick said. "I'll see you guys later."

"Don't leave on our account," Sara piped up guiltily.

"No, I was getting ready to leave. Nick looks like he needs some rest, so...don't be too long," the judge said and then leaned over and kissed his son on the top of the head and petted his face while Nick patted his dad on the arm with a warm smile. "Get some rest, Pancho."

"Will do, Cisco."

Grissom watched the tender scene sadly, coveting affection from a father that he was too young to recall. Despite Judge Stokes' tough demeanor, it was clear that Nick came from a loving and caring family…a tad smothering at times, but all in all a tight knit clan, accepting of one another's faults and loving them all the more for it. Perhaps it was this that drove McVeigh to what he became…hateful, vengeful, and jealous.

It also came as a relief to Grissom that McVeigh's horrid attack on Nick hadn't broken the bond between him and his father. The bond between father and child was far too strong for that.

Grissom walked around the room, noticed the crucifix, and read the inscription beside it.

"Hmmm…your room is sponsored by the Julian of Norwich church."

"Yeah, Mandy gave me some prayer beads."

"You know who she was, do you?" Grissom asked, walking over to Nick's bed.

"She was like a hermit living in a church…had a lot of visions and stuff. She has that prayer, All Shall be Well."

"She was an anchoress; someone who chose to live a life of solitary prayer behind the walls and wrote spiritual literature. Somehow she remained positive in a time of treachery."

Nick smiled and said, "And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."

Grissom raised his eyebrows and Nick said, "What? You think I don't have my own collection of philosophical expressions? Just because I don't say them to analyze the context of a crime scene doesn't mean I'm a pure ignoramus, Grissom."

"I never thought you were." Grissom fixed him with a compassionate stare. Compassionate?

"Umm...Grissom," Nick said, "I haven't talked to Brass, but...he...McVeigh…nothing happened this time."

Sara looked at him. "Do you want me to leave, Nick?"

"No, not at all." Nick shook his head and then flicked a look back to Grissom who waited for the CSI to share more.

"I mean, he was going to, but he didn't get a chance."

"Is that why the knife was in his leg?"

"Yeah. He pushed me down to my knees." Nick took a deep breath and finished, "Fucker was undoing his zipper," He watched as Grissom closed his eyes and exhaled while Sara looked away, "And then I realized my pocketknife was on me, so I took it out and stabbed him."

"He had a gun," Grissom pondered, "but what was strange was why didn't he use it?"

"Because it was too quick," Sara speculated. "Strangulation meant you had to see his face before you died. That added to his pleasure."

"In the end, however, it meant his death," Grissom said.

"Thank God!" Sara said.

She looked at Nick who nodded in relief before asking, "How's Greg doing?"

"He's been interviewed by IAB, but that's just a formality," Grissom said.

"Emotionally, he's shaken up," Sara told him. "But he's going to be okay. He realizes he had to do what he had to do."

Nick looked up at Grissom. "Thank you for saving my life."

A smile tugged at the bearded man's face as he patted Nick's shoulder. "You're welcome."

"This is rather deep philosophical talk for a man who was just throttled," Sara said and held his hand tightly. "Mandy was here, but she left rather quickly actually."

Nick looked at her. "Really? Is she okay?"

"She seemed a bit tense, but she smiled and said hello and then said she had to check on your cat," Sara said, "who I'm very eager to meet. He sounds like a cool kitty."

"That's kind of weird about Mandy." Nick shook his head and then lay back on the pillow. "It's good to see you again, Sara. You look great. I think I should leave the lab and join you and the other forensics people in Africa."

"It has been wonderful," she said. "It's very gratifying work. I can't bring back the victims, but I can at least give their families some closure. If you're ever interested, Nick, I can put in a good word for you at the UN."

"Well, right now I think you should be resting," Grissom said and set the gift bags on the table. He patted Nick on the shoulder. "Sara will be here for about two weeks, and from what the doctor said you should be out shortly."

"And back to work."

"That's fine," Grissom said, raising an eyebrow as voice denoted hesitancy, "if you feel up to it."

"I want to be up for it," Nick said determinedly.

Sara leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "REST first. That's an order!"

"Copy that Ms. Sidle!" he told her with a thumbs up.

xxXXxx

Mandy drove along Henderson, sniffling, trying to control the sobs that threatened to drown her in a puddle of mush.

She had waited outside of the ICU to see if indeed he was coming around. Once he was, she promptly left the hospital, stopping only to give Sara Sidle a hug to welcome her back to Vegas and say hello to Grissom. Mandy had smiled politely at Sara's jokes about the bruises on her neck, asking if she was dating Dracula. Then she hustled out of there, got into her car, and sobbed for twenty minutes.

The past two days since his kidnapping, near death, and waiting in the hospital to see if he was okay had drained her emotionally and physically.

Then the doctor said she could sit with him while they waited for him to come around after the surgery to repair the damage to his larynx.

Then he went into cardiac arrest in front of them. It was a mystery to the doctors as to why. Perhaps his bout with Hepatitis B had weakened his body, disabling its natural ability to fight. Plus, the helicopter ride may have been too rough for Nick, but it was the fastest way to get him to the hospital.

The nurses had shooed them out. While his parents sobbed with grief, Mandy simply stood there numb, unable to feel anything but an urge to run, because as much as she loved this man, his forever angst was too much.

Hours later, the surgeon came out and smiled at them saying he had done extraordinarily well. Nick had pulled through miraculously. They could go in and see him; he was awake but groggy as hell.

She waited until his parents were done and they allowed her a minute or two to see him.

Then Mandy looked down and called his name and all she got in return was, "Eponine."

Her heart crumbled, and she simply laid his hand down, kissed him on the forehead, and walked out, politely telling his parents she should really get home and make sure George was okay.

To add insult to injury, a letter had arrived for him from Eponine Sargent the day he was kidnapped. After the crime scene was cleared, she looked in his box and saw it. She thought nothing of it until he said her name.

Emotionally, she was torn. He could have said it as a result of the many drugs running through his system. Or perhaps he had some deep-seated emotions that he hadn't quite worked out that sprang up in his dreams.

Either way, Mandy felt hurt, confused, and scared. She loved him so much, but she couldn't dare allow herself to be used as a rebound despite his reassurances. It was too soon after he had left Eponine that they got together. She was right all along. After he got out of the hospital, she'd tell him so and would end it.

He probably wouldn't care. He was still in love with that trailer park tramp.

xxXXxx

After a bland dinner of chicken noodle soup and strawberry Jello, Nick was settling down to read a _National Geographic,_ a gift from Grissom, when he heard a knock at the door.

Greg and Warrick walked in, big smiles on their faces, and high fives were exchanged. Greg set brown, paper gift bags on his bed.

"You come bearing gifts, Greggo!" Nick said to the younger CSI.

"I did indeed, and I think you'll like what I got you."

Nick stared at the _PlayStation 3 _in awe and was doubly delighted when told that later they would be bringing over to his house the latest edition of _Guitar Hero._

"Whoa, Greg, this is too expensive."

"Aww…Warrick chipped in. So did Catherine who said she and Brass will be by later. Lindsay wants to come as well."

"Here man, I brought you some threads to leave the hospital with. Hope they fit you okay."

"I'm sure they do." Nick looked at the high end clothes his buddy brought him.

"And some reading material," Greg told him, setting People and Sports Illustrated on the side table. "I was looking to bring you some porn, but they'd probably get confiscated by Mandy. Speaking of which, where is she?"

"I don't know." Nick shook his head.

"I figured with you guys getting together, she'd be at your side," Greg said, then grinned. "I saw her neck. So you're engaging in vampire sex or something?"

"Never mind." Nick shot him a a look and then looked at Warrick. "Did you say something to her?"

"Me? No, I didn't. I said nothing to her," Warrick defended himself. "Hey, I'm sorry I was an ass about you dating her. I mean it. If you're happy, then I'm happy for you."

"And once the scene is clear, we'll get your house back in order," Greg told him.

"How bad was it?" Nick wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Well, your TV is gone," Warrick told him. "McVeigh rampaged through your house. The alarm was not on. Guess you must have forgotten to set it. Anyhow, your house was trashed pretty badly, but dude, don't worry. We'll get it sorted out."

Nick shrugged. "You always said I watch too much TV anyway." Then he looked at Greg and said, "Listen, Warrick, can I just talk to Greg alone for a second?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll go and introduce myself to some pretty nurses over at the station."

"Yeah, you do that," Nick told him and then smiled at Greg who looked nervous. "Thanks for…thanks for saving my life out there, Greg," he told the younger man.

"Yeah, well, I acted like an ass for no good reason, and I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to feel guilty about," Nick told him. "It was just bad luck."

"Yeah, bad luck, and I didn't know how to deal with it," Greg continued in short burst sentences that didn't connect, but they didn't connect in his brain either. "I was freaked and disgusted, but in the end I realized it wasn't your fault."

"Thanks, Greg. I needed to hear that," Nick said.

A beeping sound interrupted them and Greg looked at his cell phone. "Damn, I gotta go. Grissom's shorthanded and we have to double on cases."

"I'll be back soon," Nick told him.

"Glad to hear it." Greg said and then gave him a quick, manly embrace and was off with Warrick in tow who leaned in and bid him farewell.

Nick watched them leave. A nurse walked in and asked if needed anything to help him sleep, but refused, and then tried again to reach Mandy and was surprised to hear a cell phone ringing close to his room.

She walked in carrying an envelope and looking petrified.

He looked up and smiled. "Hey, beautiful! Where have you been?"

"Around," she answered shortly.

Nick studied her face. "What's wrong, babe?"

She walked over and kissed him on the head. He tried to reach her mouth, hungry to feel it again, but she backed away, eyes red, cold, and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"My throat still hurts, but I'm getting out tomorrow," he smiled at her.

"Good," she said. "I uh...George is at my house, and I uh...called the humane society about that dog, and they have it fostered temporarily, so when you get out you can go pick him up." She stood there with her arms folded, nervous.

Nick looked at her and studied her face, as he was good at reading body language; a hazard of the job. She was not happy with him.

"Mandy, what's going on?" he asked, the ominous feeling in him waving a red flag.

She turned away for a second, her lower lip quivering, and said, "You know, I always thought that we got together a little too soon after Eponine, but lust can be a dangerous thing…fantasies lethal."

"What are you talking about?" Nick asked, confused, and turned to sit on the edge of the bed.

"You said I wasn't a rebound." She glared at him.

"And you're not." Nick could feel his heart beating steadily. This was not looking good.

"Well, then," Mandy stared straight at him, "explain why, when you were out of it, you said…" She bit her lower lip, tears springing out of her eyes, "you said her name!"

Stunned silence ensued as Nick struggled to answer the question but could only spit out, "I did?"

Mandy nodded as sobs started to escape her lips. "You said her name when I called yours. It hurt my heart so much. I've been there for you through this time...and...all you can do is say her name."

"Oh man, I'm sorry." Nick reached out to touch her but she backed off. "Please…I'm sorry."

"And this came for you." Mandy shoved the envelope at him and he read it.

It was from Eponine. He groaned and looked at her. "I didn't know she was going to send me this."

"How did she get your address?"

"I don't know. Probably from the records at the trailer park when I booked the place." Nick shook his head. "I'm sorry I said her name. I don't know why I did. I was fucking out of it."

"So when you're out of it, the first thing that comes to your mind is her?" Mandy said. "You're not over her, Nick! Don't tell me you are, because you are not over her!"

She studied his bruised and battered face, tears brimming, and was longing to kiss every single bruise, but the anger at the events stopped her. Nick Stokes looked like a sad little puppy…a kicked little puppy.

"I'm...just...freaked by this, Nick." She looked tired, wearing her grey track pants and hoodie that she wore the night they first started to make out…the night things didn't go as planned. Not that there was one.

"But it's not my fault," Nick said, looking at the letter and tossing it on the side table. "I don't know what the hell she wants from me. Why don't you read the letter?"

"I don't want to." Mandy shook her head and held up her hands. "I can't stand the thought of her contacting you in any way, shape, or form. You could have come to me after what happened at the prison, but you went to her."

"I went to the trailer park where McVeigh was," Nick explained, "and she was just there. Things happened. I was fucked up."

"You still are," Mandy said. "You still have not gotten over the past year. Why would you call her name when you were out of it? Do you know how much that hurt me? I've been by your fucking side for weeks."

"Yeah, I know."

"Then what the hell is your issue with her?!" Mandy said, her voice going up a pitch and then she calmed down. "Okay, you know…I'm going home, and I'll take care of your cat and your house, but let's just take a break until you have worked through this Eponine issue, please?"

"Your fucking timing couldn't be worse," Nick squeaked, his voice box protesting.

"I think you need time to process the events of the past year," Mandy explained. "You can't do that with me around or anyone actually. You need to take some time and deal with what happened rather than leaning on me or Eponine to do it for you. It's bad enough I found that empty pill bottle under the tub, Nick, but now your fixation on Eponine..."

Nick was horrified. The bottle. Dammit, how could he forget to pick it up?

"I was in a dark place, Mandy, when that when happened, and I'm not fixated on Eponine."

"And I'm not just some second choice to you. Can't have the trailer park sex therapist, so I'll go for the geeky lab girl. Least I'll get laid in the process." Mandy was crying visibly.

"Is that all you think you were to me?" Nick asked, feeling his stomach coiling. "You think I'm that freakin' shallow?! I would never do that to you…ever."

"I don't know what I was, but I certainly am not going to be your rebound from Eponine." She sighed and repeated "Let's just take a break, okay? I'm not ending things. I'm chilling it a bit."

"I don't want to." Nick hated the way his voice sounded.

"I want to," she told him flatly, determined, "I'm not ending the relationship. I just want to cool things down a bit until you've gathered your thoughts on Eponine, okay? Figure out why she's still a part of your conscience. Do you still love her? You hardly knew her, Nick. You don't know what kind of woman she was. You rescued her daughter and she trampled all over you. What kind of person does that?"

"Same kind of person who dumps on someone while they are in a hospital bed," Nick told her coldly, his eyes black with rage. "You know what? Just go. Get the fuck out here, Mandy! Just go, okay?"

"Nick," she looked at him sadly, "I still…care. I'm still here for you."

"I said GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM! NOW!" Nick snapped, grabbing the magazines on the table and shoving them off ferociously as rage took control and everything…gift bags, baskets, and flowers from well-wishers…went flying all over the room as he cursed and swore, "Just get out of my life! I've had ENOUGH!!"

Frightened, Mandy raced out sobbing while Nick slid off the bed and started to walk after her, running smack dab into Catherine Willows who was flanked by Lindsay and Brass.

"Whoa, what's going on?" Catherine asked. "Did I just walk onto the set of _General Hospital_? Mandy walks out of here crying. Geeze, what the hell is going with you two? You nearly died and now you guys are fighting. Even Eddie and I didn't have it as bad."

Lindsay stood there gawking at adult drama; better than TV sometimes! Brass handed Nick a bag and told Catherine that he and Lindsay would go look at some trinkets in the gift shop.

"Good idea," Catherine said, shuffling Nick back into the room and closing the door.

Every part of him fucking hurt. His throat hurt, his face hurt, his back hurt, and then finally his heart felt like someone had run it over with a Denali. He leaned over and grabbed his stomach. "Catherine, I think I'm having a heart attack or a something. I don't know. I'm...fuck it hurts…fucking hurts like hell," he growled.

A young nurse with wispy, blonde hair walked in asking about the commotion and headed over to Nick's bed. "Mr. Stokes, would you like me to get the doctor for you?" She checked his IV and lifted his scrub shirt to listen to his heart.

Nick took a deep breath and rasped, "I'm okay."

"You sure?" She studied him.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He collected himself.

"Okay, just buzz if you need us, okay?" She smiled warmly and walked out of the room while Catherine gathered up the magazines and set them neatly on the table.

"What's going on, Nicky?" Catherine asked.

"I…fucked up again. I totally and royally fucked up. I'm nothing but a fucking moron...a jerk," he heaved and tried to keep it all in, choking it out painfully as the pain in his throat was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. "Why do I even go on, Catherine? My life is such a fucking joke! Straight out of some freakin' damn writers' room somewhere. If I was a character on a show, I'd be the writers' bitch! I just don't want to go on anymore."

Nick's face was a myriad of pain as he bent over holding his stomach and rocked back and forth, taking deep gulps to hold back. "I give up! I plain and fucking well give up on my life! I wish McVeigh had killed me. I wish Grissom hadn't saved me. I wish I was dead! I never thought I'd say this, but I really, truly do!"

"Stop it, Nick!" Catherine ordered. "Stop it now! Enough of that talk. You don't mean that. Life is hard, but you're a strong man, and you'll get through this. I'm here for you. We're here for you, and believe me, as bad as it is now, it will get better. I promise."

"Yeah right." He was sobbing by now and trying unsuccessfully to hold it back.

Catherine scooted onto the bed and put her arm around him. "It's okay to cry with me, Nick. I can take it."

And he finally did, harder than he had in months. He cried for what happened to him at the prison, cried for Eponine, cried for Mandy, and cried even for McVeigh, for whatever injustices caused him to seek him out and ravage him in the most horrid and irreversible way.

The blonde criminalist held the heaving man, feeling the sobs wrack his soul, and rocked him like she would her daughter when the world got her down. Nick had always brought out that maternal instinct in her. A young, eager man who came to Vegas to work as a criminalist, and Vegas thanked him by beating on him day after day from an unsympathetic and often distant supervisor to a lab tech who crushed his heart. This guy had earned the right to cry his heart out with her.

And she would let him. It was time.

_**A/N: I was feeling bummed when I wrote this chapter, sorry the muse forced me into this route.**_

_**Don't be angry with Mandy. How would you feel?**_

_**I hope nobody is offended by my take on Nick's after life.**_

_**Buddha's quotes are actual quotes. **_

_**Jesus's quotes are my own take on Christianity.**_

_**I don't know very much about Islam, so I figured Allah could take a day off.**_

_**Nick's a survivor, that's all I can say.**_


	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER 21**

**IRREVERSIBLE**

_**Thanks again to all of you for your reviews. **_

_**Thanks Smokey for your feedback and edits.**_

Nick packed his belongings as his parents sat by helping him. He scanned the new _Planet Earth _DVD Grissom had bought for him, his old one destroyed in McVeigh's rage. Grissom had also sent off a letter to his alma mater, purchasing a brand new degree complete with an expensive brass, school logo frame. As robot-like as Grissom was, Nick had to hand it to the guy. He knew how to give in small ways that meant very much to the recipients.

"Sorry about your girl," Judge Stokes said as he handed his son his black, leather jacket. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, we've got other stuff to talk about before you guys leave," Nick answered, his voice sounding a bit hoarse but much improved. "The hospital chaplain told me we could have the chapel for the afternoon."

His parents looked at one another as his mother asked, "What's wrong, Nick?"

"I just have something I wanna tell you before you leave. It's taken a long time for me to do this, but I'm ready." Nick slid his leather coat over his arm and showed them the way.

xxXXxx

The chapel was a tiny room with a few comfy cream-coloured chairs, a love seat, a deep green carpet, an ottoman, and stained-glass windows depicting streams, forests, animals, and sunsets. A small fountain sat in the corner, and a red leather bible, a black leather Koran, and fresh cut flowers sat in the middle of a coffee table.

Nick's parents sat on the love seat while he pulled up a chair and sat down in front of them. He was feeling like a criminalist right now having to break bad news to victims of a crime, such as the woman whose husband had just come home from Iraq only to be stabbed randomly by some drug addict. He fiddled with the ring on his finger.

He chose his words carefully. "I just wanted to let you both know that I had an awesome childhood, and I couldn't have asked for better parents. I mean, you were tough on us, but we always knew you loved us."

His parents looked at each other nervously. Good news always preceded bad news. His father cleared his throat. "What's going on, Pancho?"

Nick clasped his hands, looked down at the carpet and then up again at his parents, pressing his lips together, and then finally found the words. "Do you both remember the night that Dad was being honoured at some banquet, and I couldn't go with you because I was sick with the chicken pox?"

His mother's eyes filled with concern as she replied, "Yes, I remember. We had a heck of a time finding a babysitter."

The Texan's face grew somber as the sea finally gave up its dead in the form of a 27 year old secret and then waited for the reaction of the passersby on the beach. The reaction was of a tragic nature saved for those who find dying dolphins on the beach: bewilderness, sadness, and shock at the cruelty of nature that allows tragedies to happen to creatures of such sweet innocence.

Nick realized at that point how and why he had kept this a secret…had always kept it a secret. While nurture always showed itself in the kind of adult one grows into, it's often nature that predicts one's personality; in this case, his mother, who many said that Nick reminded them of. She was the more sensitive, empathetic, and thoughtful of his parents. Her laugh-lined face seemed to quiver, and tears filled her eyes while his dad sat back, his face statue-like, as they took the news quietly.

Running a hand over her face, Lois Stokes finally broke the silence as she declared raspily, "Well, I guess this answers a lot of questions I had about your behaviour that summer." Nick's ears perked at this as she looked away at one of the stained-glass windows and breathlessly continued on, more to herself than to Nick or his father, "My gut always told me that there was more going on with you than you let on. Looking back now, your behaviour was indicative of a child who'd been...who's been...assaulted." The last word spit out of her as if it had to fight its way out, because to say the word made it fact and not suspicion.

"I always had a bad feeling about her." Judge Stokes' arms were folded and his nostrils flared as he droned, "Why do you think I never had her back? A child doesn't start wetting the bed at the age of nine for no reason."

Eyes wide, Nick asked, "You knew about that?" His face flushed with embarrassment and amusement. He was just a kid!

"The maid found the sheets hidden, but we told her just to let it be. We figured you were too mortified to tell us," his mother said softly and reassuringly.

"And then your behaviour that summer…very unlike you. We weren't sure why. Or we didn't want to know why," his father speculated while taking in the news as if he'd been told he was dying of a disease. "And I gave you the whipping of your life. I regret that now. Notice I never used the belt again on any of you. I was going through a hell of a trial, and when your mother told me about the window, I snapped…took it out on you." He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, stemming his emotions, and then finally huffed out, "I'm sorry, Pancho."

A small part of Nick that had carried the pain for years seemed to unwind itself.

"I remember trying to stop you." His mother looked at his father angrily as if this had been a sore point for them for years on end.

"It was hard for me to sit up on that Judge's stand all day long and watch young men just fall through the cracks," Judge Stokes reflected, "So if I was harder on you kids, it was because I didn't want to any of you wind up that way."

"Still no excuse!" Jill Stokes said angrily.

Stepping in to stop the blame game, Nick held up his hand and said, "I remember after…you took me out and bought me all those comic books, then those matchbox cars, and even then to a drive-in. Just the two of us, Cisco. That was real cool."

Tightened muscles in his dad's face relaxed at the interlude of a fond childhood memory.

"We should have known though," his mother said with a tear falling down her cheek. She quickly dabbed it away with a tissue she pulled from a box on a side table that held a small, peach coloured lamp.

"Back then," Nick said, "nobody talked about that stuff, Mom."

"Plus, with six others vying for our time, we never felt like we had enough. Our careers consumed us, and what was left we had to split seven times over. It was easy to miss you since you were the youngest and always in hiding from your sisters because you were like their doll. But that was no excuse for not doing anything about it." Lois' eyes were spilling with tears.

Clearing his throat, Nick took his mom's hand. "I don't blame you, Mom, Cisco. I remember how glad I was that night that you came home, because even if you didn't know, I felt safer with you guys there."

"No wonder you brought your blanket and pillow into our room that night," she recalled.

"Statute of Limitations doesn't run out on this. We could probably find her," Judge Stokes said determinedly, his nostrils flared. "I could speak to the DA. She moved away not long after the window incident…claims our dog tried to attack her once. She drank a lot, which is why I never wanted her back. I swear that night she was into the whiskey."

"I remember that smell," Nick told them. He noticed them growing pale and decided then and there that he had given them enough information at this point and no further information needed to be provided. They knew the truth and it was enough. "Look, I don't want to pursue any charges. I want to move on."

"You had to live with this pain for 27 years," his father said and then asked, "Don't you want some justice on this, son?"

"I've done okay with the pain," the Texan assured his stricken father.

His mother grabbed some more tissues out of the box and dabbed her wet eyes. "It would ease my guilt."

"You don't have anything to feel guilty about, Mom," Nick insisted.

"You can't expect her to get away with this, Pancho." Judge Stokes sat forward. "We trusted her. You trusted her, and she violated that trust."

"Yeah, she did," Nick agreed, "but time is its own revenge."

The Texan agreed with his dad that she shouldn't get away with it, but Nick no longer had the strength within him to fight another battle. His coping mechanisms were low on reserves. The anger had become pathological, and despite the brave façade he was putting on, he was the clown in this circus of a life, his smile merely plastered on for others to see. The anger, however, was twisting itself into another insidious monster: depression.

Nick didn't like how he felt this morning when the orderly brought his breakfast. One word: malaise. Maybe the ongoing assault of cortisol on his system was taking its toll. He reluctantly told his doctor who gave him a script of Celexa, a Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor.

Great. Meds. He could hear the jokes in the lab right now.

His father brought him out of his reverie. "So you don't want to pursue any criminal charges on this one?"

"No." The Texan shook his slowly. "It would bring up a lot of bad feelings and wounds, and at this point I've got enough of that to deal with from the past year. I just don't want to add to it. I'm sorry I chose this time to tell you both about this. It's just that my attack last year triggered a lot of memories."

"I'm sure it did," his mother said, grabbing and squeezing his hand.

"And I wanted to let you know why I was such a rotten kid that summer."

"Pancho, you were a great kid," his father told him.

"You were the sweetest of the bunch." Lois Stokes smiled. "The kindest one, the one who gave away his last chocolate bar to his sister after your brother stole hers out of the trick or treat bag."

"Yeah, well, you always told me to think of others," Nick chuckled. Looking at the time on his cell phone, he realized that they had a plane to catch.

Before they left, his mother turned to him and hugged him tightly saying, "Thank you for telling me. I always wondered what went on with you that summer and if I had done something to cause it."

"Mom, you shouldn't have thought that way," Nick said sadly.

"Well, you don't have children," she emphasized the fact to a beleaguered Nick who had heard the old 'when are you going to settle down and have a family' charade many times, and then she continued, "When you do, you'll understand the burden of guilt a parent carries when something goes wrong with their child."

"Yeah, I guess I'll find that out…someday. Closest thing I've got is when George sneaks off and steals toys out of the neighbour's backyard and I have to return them," the Texan said as he led them back to his room where he finished packing and checked out of the hospital.

As they walked out of the hospital, Judge Stokes looked at his son. "Pancho, would you ever consider moving home?"

Nick racked his brain for the right answer and then said, "When I'm pretty sure that I can launch a career without the shadow of the great Judge Stokes looming over me, then yeah, I'd consider it."

His parents looked at each other. It wasn't the answer they hoped for, but it was good enough.

xxXXxx

As the cab driver helped him up the steps with his carryon bag and suitcase, Nick saw Mrs. Matthews sitting on her stoop with the three-legged orange tabby and the brown tabby curled up in jumbo-shaped balls.

He paid the cabbie and then set about getting into the house…his empty house. Warrick had given/loaned him some furniture that had belonged to Tina…a bit feminine for Nick's tastes, but it would do until the insurance company coughed up a cheque.

Further investigation had revealed that McVeigh knew his way around alarm systems and had actually tampered with his the day before. The insurance company couldn't refute this evidence as presented by Warrick, and their claim that Nick had forgotten to turn it on was null and void.

After he had unpacked, he made the difficult call to Mandy to ask her to bring George back home. Sitting on a royal green, soft couch with cushions the size of watermelons, he text messaged her asking her to bring the cat back.

Afterward, he went and sat on his stoop to wait for her. He said hello to some of the neighbours who asked how he was doing and said if there was anything he needed to let them know. It was the polite stuff that you're supposed to say to someone who's been ill, but never really meant to go beyond that.

Then he brought Eponine's letter out of his pocket and opened it.

_Dear Nick,_

_If you are reading this, then I assume that you didn't throw it away upon seeing my name on the return address._

_First of all, I wanted to let you know that I still think about you everyday and really feel awful about what happened. I hurt you at a time when you least needed it. I let my anger rule my judgment. _

_And in that, I forgot to tell you how much I appreciate the lengths you went to find Stephanie. _

_You see, after I had her, I couldn't have any more children. She was all I had after my husband left me for a younger woman. Losing her would have meant the end of me. You saved two lives that day, not just one._

_I'll always be grateful to you, Nick. You are a brave man with so much depth and soul. An old soul you are. _

_I wish you well. _

_Eponine._

"So you're back again."

Nick cast a glance over at Mrs. Matthews. "Did you miss me?"

"You?! Hell no!" She puffed some smoke.

"My feelings are hurt!" Nick smiled sarcastically.

"Yeah, you're a real tenderhearted bear, Nick…all weepy and stuff," she cackled.

"Someone's gotta do it." Nick rested an elbow on his knee and placed his chin in his hand. "Crying's good for you. It cleanses the soul, or what little of mine that I have." He cast another glance over at Mrs. Matthews, waiting for the sarcastic remark to come about his soul. Hell, he'd given her a segue and she wasn't going to take the bait.

Nope, she simply blew out some smoke and started to dead-head a white hanging basket of red and purple pansies sitting near her and then picked it up, walked over to Nick's steps, and placed there. "I bought this for you. Don't worry. They're small, but hardy." She smiled a crooked one at him. "Kind of like you…wiry, but hardy!"

"Usually it's the guy that gives the lady the flowers," Nick said in surprise, picking up the small hanging basket with a smile.

"It's the new millennium, Nick. We can do what we want." She smiled at him and then headed back to her stoop. "Well, I'm glad you're okay," she said. "Look after yourself, and I'm here if you need me." She walked up the steps and into the house with the fat tabbies in tow.

Nick picked up the flower basket and studied it, then finished dead-heading them, remembering when he was a kid and his mother and he used to hang out in the garden together. His sisters were off playing house, and he refused to play the baby this time because he wasn't a baby anymore. Losing the living doll status in the house was something they weren't ready to deal with, and his older brother didn't want to be bothered with a tagging six year old, so that left Nick with the animals and his mom on her days off. So she taught him about picking dead flowers off of the plants to keep her garden looking glorious.

Another fat tabby walked up the steps and watched him. He was an orange dude with a pointy little head and pointy ears.

"So you must be the daddy or one of the daddies in that bunch," Nick asked the burly looking cat who yawned and simply made himself at home.

"Sorry bud, I can't have another cat here, I got George," Nick told the furball and then reproached himself as he placed the basket on a stoop and left it there, noticing that it was getting ready to rain.

_You're turning into Mrs. Matthews, Nick. You're talking to a cat._

_I talk to George all the time._

_You need a woman!!_

His cell phone beeped and he checked it. "At work…will bring George by tonight." Nick sighed as he was looking forward to seeing his little fur buddy.

As he got up to go into his house, his cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hello, Nick? It's Veronica from the Vegas Humane Society. I heard you were getting out today. Hope I'm not being too hasty in calling you about Zack, the lab/terrier mix you were inquiring about."

Nick opened the door and went into house. "No, not at all. How's he doing?"

"He's doing well, but the family that fostered him is unable to keep him any longer. I'd hate to bring him back into the shelter as he's doing much better, so bringing him back here would simply backtrack him. Are you up to taking him now?"

"Yeah, I'm off for two weeks, so I can look after him."

Veronica breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll bring him by your house tomorrow morning if that's not too early."

"That's alright," Nick answered. "Thanks."

"No, thank you, Nick, and I'll bring his crate. He spends most of his time there, but seems to be easing out of it. He probably won't do much more until he's comfortable with you."

"Yeah, that's fine. He'll be okay."

"Thanks, Nick! Glad to hear you're doing better. You know, a donation was made by a Sheriff McKeen on your behalf while you were sick."

Nick chuckled, "Really?"

"Yes, it was quite generous. And another one was made by a …uh…Eric McVeigh of McVeigh and Harper Industries. That was a very, very generous donation. We plan to use it to buy a new cruelty investigation van."

Nick was silent, trying to control the bile forming in his stomach, and then he mumbled, "Well, I'm glad to hear that, and I hope that van comes of use."

"You know, would you ever leave your job and join us here at the humane society as a cruelty investigator, Nick? Nevada's laws really suck, but as you know we have a high burnout rate with our people."

Nick recovered quickly and answered, "You know, I really like what I do, but how's this for an answer? If there's a case that's really got you guys, I'll offer my consulting services free of charge."

"Oh! That would be awesome!" Veronica said.

Nick flipped his cell off and decided to take a nap on the couch, still reeling from the double donation by one enemy and one guy he never liked: the Under Sheriff…the man whose answer to his kidnapping was to simply tell everyone to get ready for a funeral.

A ringing noise infiltrated his sleep.

"_Well look what we got here!"_

_Pain. His throat ached. McVeigh was on him, throttling him again._

He sat up and realized it was his cell beeping at him. He lifted it up.

_George is coming home._

Nick cleared his throat, sat up, and looked at his watch. Three hours had passed. Every so often, he had mucous build up in his throat, but the doctor told him it would pass.

As he unpacked his bags he brought out Eponine's letter and stared at it. There was a number at the bottom. Rolling his tongue around his mouth, he thought about what he would say to her and then took a deep breath and dialed the number.

His heart raced as the number rang and he heard 'hello'. It was her.

"Umm…hi. It's…me."

"Nick?" She sounded delighted.

"Yeah, how are you?" He inhaled deeply.

"I'm good. Are you? I heard on the news about what happened to you."

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"That son of a bitch is dead isn't he?" Eponine sounded nervous and relieved.

"Yeah, he is."

A momentary pause as she asked, "Did he…?" She faltered and concluded, "I shouldn't ask."

"No, that's alright. I'll tell you." Nick went on to explain what happened and heard a heavy sigh followed by a 'Thank God' when he told her how he'd gotten away from McVeigh.

"I know you're glad to be alive, but I'm sure you're almost as glad that...he…didn't…do anything to you."

"Well, there was a little bit of stuff, but nothing…nothing like before," Nick said and joked, "I know for sure I'm a heterosexual since the thought of a man even doing that to me...grossed me out."

"Like a lot of gay people feel when they are intimate with someone of the opposite sex, but this was not about sex, Nick. It's what he told you. It was about bringing you down in the worst way possible. For all we know, McVeigh was probably heterosexual or even bisexual. Either way, it doesn't really matter."

"I don't know what he was," Nick answered nonplused, "and I don't care either way. He's dead and that's all that matters, and I'm sorry his life was so hard but it had nothing to do with me or my family."

"No, not at all. It was revenge," Eponine said.

The sound of her voice, husky and haunting, was hard for him to hear but he continued, "I got your letter. Actually, my girlfriend found it."

"Oh shit. I'm sorry!" she said ruefully. "But you blocked my e-mail address."

"I haven't been actually checking my e-mail, so it's full," he explained and then took a deep breath. "Thanks for sending it, and you don't have to explain anything to me, Eponine. I was responsible for Stephanie's kidnapping, and so I owed it to you to find her."

"No, you didn't owe me anything," she told him gently. "And you have nothing to be sorry for."

"I owe you an explanation, though," Nick said. "You asked me why I was there."

"I always wondered."

"I had planned to go there and kill him," Nick said quietly. "I wanted to feel safe again, and it was the only way I could do it."

Eponine was quiet and then said, "I understand why...why you would feel that way."

"And you...kind of stopped me, in your own way. I guess I just realized that there is a whole world out there that I need to be part of, and killing him would end that."

"So you had great sex and came to this thought? You're a man alright," she chuckled.

"No…no, just you reaching out to me like that kept me in the moment instead of staying in my trailer and planning my revenge like some Sweeney Todd."

"Oh, you had a barber's chair and a meat grinder too? I should ask my brother to check on that trailer before the owners come back. Might be some bodies in there. He hasn't seen Mr. Stewart around for a bit. Of course, he's a schizophrenic and tends to wander off if he thinks the police are out to get him."

"Oh yeah, I remember him," Nick laughed, her humour lightening up the moment which reminded him of why he took to her. "No bodies anywhere, unless my cat buried a few in my backyard."

Eponine chuckled, "Look, I'm sorry I upset your girlfriend. She's a really nice lady; just a bright light of optimism."

"Well, she's intimidated by you," Nick told her.

"She shouldn't be. I've got my own issues too. I put on a great façade for all to see, but underneath I'm as insecure as a lot of people."

"Could have fooled me."

"I guess I did, which shows that you really don't know me."

Nick told her about his strange near death dream and how it ended with him calling her name.

"Well, did you tell her that you also saw Kurt Cobain, Johnny Cash, Jesus, and Buddha?"

"No, I just wished I had called their names and not yours."

Eponine laughed, "Yeah, probably would have been better in the long run, but what are these feelings about?"

"I don't…I just…I can't explain it. I mean..." he fumbled along and then said, "I guess I was in some sort of afterlife and I guess my past was starting to flash before my eyes."

"You were in a drug-induced state. You were probably just confused."

"I guess if I have any feelings about you, it's guilt for lying." Nick chewed his bottom lip because he seriously couldn't figure it out.

"I know you do, and I've told you you've got nothing to feel guilty about. You had no control over McVeigh and his actions. I should have never let Stephanie wander over to her friend's house alone."

"No!" Nick told her. "Kids have a right to explore the world without any fear."

"True, but unfortunately we don't live in those times anymore."

Nick had to admit, it was a far different world now. Hell, he'd wandered off so many times by himself as a kid it's a wonder no pedophile had snatched him. Ironically, when he was attacked it was in the safety of his own home.

"Is that all?" she asked.

"I don't know. I just liked how life was when you were around."

"But when you talked about Mandy, your face lit up. You might have enjoyed being around me, but I knew deep down you had a fondness for this girl. There are different ways to care about people, Nick, different kinds of love. I think you love me for how I helped you, but that doesn't mean you're _in_ love with me. You're just grateful for the kindness I showed you at a dark moment."

"Yeah, you sure did," Nick replied sarcastically.

"Yeah, but there was more than that."

"Of course, but…I really...care about this girl."

"Then try to get her back," Eponine said. "If not, then move on. Life's too short."

"That's for sure," Nick said, noticing a car pulling up. Mandy was here. "Look, I'm going to get going now, but I'm glad you sent me the letter, and you know I'll never forget you, Eponine, but…I need to move on..."

She didn't let him finish. "I know. Me too. We're both reminders of a dark time and that's not good."

Nick breathed a sigh of relief as she had said it before him, then said, "In fact, I don't think I really want to be with anyone right now. I mean who's gonna want a guy like me anyway?"

"Who wouldn't, Nick? You're an awesome guy."

"Yeah, but once someone finds out what happened to me, they'll just treat me like a leper."

"Maybe they won't. I didn't."

"You've studied up on that stuff."

"Mandy didn't."

"She knew me before all that happened. No, I'm damaged goods now."

"You're not. Far from it."

Nick was unsure, but he didn't say anything. He just figured it would be one of many things that he'd work on. As soon as he flipped off the phone he heard the doorbell ring and went over to open it. Gulping, he peeked out and saw Hodges standing there.

"Hodges?"

"Yep, I was sent here to deliver your cat." The lab tech walked in with a shrug.

"Where's…" Nick began.

"Mandy? She had a double to pull."

"Oh." Nick tried to hide his disappointment, but Hodges, unfortunately, didn't miss a thing.

"It wasn't personal. She had a double to pull on a big case. Grissom needed her, but she wanted to make sure your buddy here got home."

George was pawing at the carrier while Nick unhitched the door and scooped up his kitty, petting his head. "Hey bud!! Welcome back."

Hodges was staring at him, creeping him out. "What do you want, Hodges?" he asked, his dark brown eyes staring at hm.

"You know, she's been a mess since early this week when she dumped you," the lab tech said with a knowing smirk.

"She didn't dump me," Nick said, putting George down onto the floor. "We took a break."

"That's not what I heard," Hodges surmised.

Nick looked up at the ceiling asking the man upstairs to please give him strength not to throttle Hodges.

"Well either way, she's a mess," Hodges said. "Thought you might want to know. I personally never understood her little crush on you, but I guess tragic figures like you are appealing to women."

"I think you need to leave now," Nick said, "before I grab you and shove you out the door."

"I'm just saying."

"Hodges!!" Nick glared while throwing the door open and pointing outside. "Go!!"

"She's still in love with you."

"Yeah, well she has a funny way of showing it," Nick snorted.

"You'll forgive her," Hodges said, "because that's who you are."

Nick widened his eyes. Hodges gave him a compliment. Call the press.

"Have a good evening, Nick." Hodges went on his merry way.

Nick closed the door behind the tech as soon as his feet hit the outside and then went and slumped onto the couch.

xxXXxx

Zack was the most god awful, ugliest dog that ever existed.

Not to mention the wimpiest dog and the most freaked out.

The dog stayed put in the kennel in the dining room where Nick had placed him, its brown eyes darting about nervously, jumping and twitching at every little bit of noise.

Nick looked at him pitifully as Greg and Warrick walked over.

The pathetic creature looked like the result of a head on collision between a Jack Russell Terrier and a Labrador Retriever…Terrier body,Lab Head, Lab Tail, yellow with some white on his back sticking up like a tree.

"I'm sorry, Nick, that is the ugliest dog I've ever seen in my life. His mother must have been drunk," Warrick surmised.

"That dog is a four-legged crime scene," Greg nodded.

"Yeah, like your wardrobe!" Nick glared at his friends and their analysis of his dog.

"He needs another dog to learn how to be a dog," Grissom said from far off in a corner where he was taking in Nick's small collection of books and actually reading through one: T.S. Eliot's anthology. How it survived McVeigh's rampage, Nick would never know.

"What do you mean, Gris?" Warrick asked. "Teach him how to be a dog?"

"He's not been socialized with other dogs. How old is he, Nick?"

"Six months?" Nick pondered. "He was a backyard dog."

"Thus not knowing the ins and outs of being a dog?" Grissom scanned through the book.

"Can't help him with that." Nick shrugged. "Although whenever Catherine and Sara came around one of my crime scenes I felt like peeing it on to establish my territory."

Grissom chuckled and then asked, "So what are your plans for training him?"

"I think this little guy is going to require me to hire a dog trainer," Nick sighed. "This is more than I can handle. He won't even look at me."

"He's traumatized." Grissom looked over his glasses. "He's been abused and he'll need time. Do you know if he's dog aggressive?" The dog had its butt out of the cage while the rest of him was in it.

"No," Nick said. "He's fine with other dogs. He's just scared to death of them."

"Maybe he needs another dog to hang out with."

"You're offering to do doggie play dates with me?" Nick broke into an amused smile.

"You watch the 'Dog Whisperer'?" Grissom asked, eyebrow cocked.

"Oh yeah," Nick answered, perplexed.

"Then you know he needs to be around another dog who can teach him how to be a dog."

George walked over and sniffed Zack, then trotted off glaring at Nick. He hopped onto a newly built, four foot scratching post that the Texan had put together the night before. It kept his mind off of Mandy and sex, especially sex, and dark, nasty thoughts.

Maybe he should follow George's lead and ask the vet to neuter him, and when they weren't looking he'd lace the IV with Euphanol and this is the way Nick Stokes ends, not with a bang but a whimper.

_Stop it, Nick. You ain't goin' nowhere._

"Maybe you two will finally bond," Warrick said. "About time!"

Grissom eyed the black man with surprise while Nick and Greg exchanged glances.

"I have to talk to Nick alone," Grissom said. "Do you two mind leaving us?"

The CSIs nodded and bid them farewell.

Nick walked over and sat near the dog, talking to it quietly.

"I came here because I was asked to by Maddie Klein."

Nick looked up alarmed. Now what?!

"You know, McVeigh's father is being prosecuted for lining the pockets of O' Flynn. He's pleading guilty to all of the charges, including conspiracy in the case of your attack by McVeigh."

"You know, he called you, Grissom," Nick said. "Why did O'Flynn call you if his pockets were being lined?"

"Because Cowell was going to do it if he didn't. O'Flynn was trying desperately to cover so many secrets that he lost count of the lies he was telling," Grissom explained.

"Well at least someone is going to pay for what happened to me instead of dying, hopefully."

"I hope that his conviction will bring some kind of closure, Nick, for your sake. I also wanted to share McVeigh's autopsy report from Doc Robbins."

Nick looked at him as Grissom continued, "McVeigh was not HIV Positive, Nick. Nor was Charles Smith, which you already knew, but McVeigh was not either. His tests all came back HIV Negative. Therefore, unless you're not telling me something…" Nick shook his head vehemently as Grissom continued, "Doc Robbins feels that your chances of having it are quite small."

The Texan sighed out loud and blinked back tears of relief as he said, "The doctor will probably still want that final test, but that…I'm...relieved." Nick laughed as he felt the final boulder on his shoulder roll away off his back and into the grand canyon of worries and fears.

Then he smiled at Grissom gratefully and said, "Thank you."

Grissom sat down beside Nick. "I'm glad to have finally said the right words to you, Nick, after all these years."

Then they looked at the nervous dog who was finally asleep.

"My dog ain't ugly," Nick said scratching its head.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Grissom said.

"Yeah, well in this beholder's eye, he's a good looking dog who just needs to learn that the world is a scary place, but he can deal with it."

"Animals can sense a lot of emotions in people, including empathy," Grissom told him. "Therefore Zack is in good hands." Then he looked down at the T.S. Eliot anthology and asked, "I didn't know you liked T.S. Eliot."

"I used to. You can have that book," Nick told his boss while staring out a window over the dog crate, reflective.

"Why would you give it away?" Grissom asked as he placed the book onto the bottom shelf.

Nick paused for a moment. "Because I was reading a poem of his before my attack. You know, _The_ _Hollow Men_,with that stanza 'this is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper'. While they were…" Nick closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "That one line...kept repeating itself over and over."

"The brain's way of dealing with the trauma of the moment," Grissom told him.

"Yeah," Nick said, "I know."

"There is a theory in the literary world of that particular stanza, in that it was Eliot's interpretation of how people who have been bombed during the war don't recall hearing the blast."

"Kind of a shock and awe," Nick surmised and then asked, "What about the prickly pear stanza?"

"Could be Eliot's view of the post war world and society's worship of false gods."

Nick smiled and said, "Can I tell you about my near death experience?"

Grissom's eyes widened in slight surprise before he answered, "Certainly."

When the Texan was done, Grissom laughed and said, "I have a feeling that you have absorbed more of my quotes than you realize."

"Osmosis!" Nick said noticing that the dog had turned its head around and was staring at the two men, its tail alert.

"I think someone wants to come out and say hello," Grissom observed as the dog turned around and slowly crept out of the kennel and sniffed Nick's hand.

Nick allowed the dog to sniff him out, not moving an inch, knowing the poor animal would simply run back in.

Grissom smiled and said, "That's progress. Small steps. That's how it is when you recover from trauma. Not big steps, but small ones."

xxXXxx

Mandy sat in the lunchroom reading some stupid romance novel.

"Hey there!"

She turned and saw Sara standing there smiling in a brown blazer and jeans, sunglasses perched on her head.

"Hey!" Mandy said. "Thought you were heading back to Africa."

"Oh, I'm still here." Sara walked in and took a seat beside the lab tech.

"Are you coming back to work here?" Mandy asked.

"Oh no. Not yet at least," Sara answered, sitting down at the table and then smiling at Mandy who looked back at her quizzically. Sara cleared her throat. "It's hard, isn't it?"

"What's hard?" Mandy asked testily. She had one rule and one rule these days - do not talk about Nick Stokes with her or be prepared for a rage.

"It's hard when there's someone in the background, some great love they had, a person who by all definition is the epitome of sexual allure, and then there's women like us - ordinary women who live ordinary lives…maybe a little more than ordinary, but still pretty ordinary lives and do ordinary things in our jobs."

"You're talking about Eponine Sargent," Mandy claimed.

"No, I'm talking about my life actually," Sara said. "When the person who you are with has a history with a dominatrix, it's hard to follow that. Very hard."

Mandy looked around and then leaned in. "So Lady Heather was his girlfriend?"

"No, just someone he had a very intimate relationship with," Sara answered. "And then I came along. Try following that, especially when that person goes through a horrific event in their life and your boyfriend is the only one she trusts."

"So how did you deal with it?" Mandy asked.

"I guess I just reminded myself that in the end, he came home to me." Sara nodded and then went on, "You never read the letter, did you?"

"I didn't need to," Mandy said.

"It wasn't what you thought. She thanked Nick for saving her daughter."

Mandy shook her head. "I'm sure that's not all she said."

"Well, they talked, but nothing came of it."

"Why are you helping me?" Mandy asked.

"I don't know. I guess because from what Nick told me, he was happy with you." Sara shrugged. "I mean, this isn't Grey's Anatomy."

"Oh god, I hate show!!" Mandy groaned.

"Yeah really," Sara agreed. "But he was happy. A rarity these days."

"You try dating the hot guy in the lab." Mandy shook her head

"I never thought of him like that. He was just Nick to me. Yeah, he looked good, but he was like my brother."

"'Cause you're all into Grissom." Mandy raised her eyes.

"True, but Nick's an ordinary guy; just with extraordinary bad luck."

Mandy went on, "He's not over Eponine, because he…when he woke up in the hospital...he called me by her name. Do you know what that was like?"

"That sucks!" Sara said. "I don't know how I could deal with that. I can't explain it, unless he's got some guilt over the fact that he lied to her about McVeigh. But why is it so hard to date him? I mean, if he is the hot guy of the lab - I always thought Warrick Brown wore that crown - then you should be on the moon."

"I was, and then I looked around and saw all these craters and thought, holy crap what did I get myself into? I know, it sounds shallow. I'm just scared that something is going to happen to him and I'll lose him and then I'll be alone again," Mandy explained.

"It's a risk we take with everyone, Mandy. Grissom could walk out the door and be shot," Sara told her. "Nick took a risk with you. You could get hit by a car. It's life."

"It's too hard. I'm just scared."

"Grissom once said that he who loves 50 people has 50 woes; he who loves no one has no woes,'" Sara said then added, "Actually it was Buddha, but suffice to say that once you love someone, you take their woe. We can't have people in our lives and not expect to deal with their different experiences. I know it's hard, and we all wanna do the Tammy Wynette thing and stand by our man, but sometimes it gets so hard. However, it is worth it. He's a good man. I've known Nick for years. He's grown so much as a person from that frat boy that I worked with eight years ago."

Mandy was tearing up. "But what about the empty bottle?"

"He's working on it. He's in therapy. That's pretty good for a man. They don't easily go to therapy, so for Nick to do it takes a lot of guts. He's not someone who gives up easily."

Mandy bit her lower lip. "I really did...screw it up…and…I really…love him." She looked around, making sure Ecklie wasn't around or any gossip hounds.

"No," Sara said, "you were right to give him space. He needed that time. But I can see he's still pretty damn hurt."

"Yeah, it's probably too late."

"I can't answer that," Sara told her knowing that Nick certainly was a forgiver, but given what's happened to him she wondered if he had reached his limit.

"It probably is, but it's just as well. I can't handle being with the lab heartthrob...getting these looks from other women who think I'm just too damn geeky for him. What the hell is he doing with her?"

"I know all about it," Sara said. "Hey, I'm no glamour girl."

"You're gorgeous, Sara!" Mandy told her.

"And you are too!" Sara said. "Geeze, give yourself some credit."

"Hey, he's better looking than me." Mandy bit her lip again.

"Oh for god sake, that's not true. I mean, if you two have kids I hope they don't get that chin of his. Oh lord, Nick would be an ugly woman!" Sara tried to joke, but Mandy wasn't in the mood for it. "It's not about looks. It's about the heart and the soul. That's what drew him to you. He told me in an e-mail weeks ago that you were like the bright light in the darkest of his days. You made him laugh. You took his mind off the crap happening to him. You were there the night he had to testify. He said he was so lucky to have you."

Each word Sara said pierced Mandy's heart and she asked, "So why didn't he tell me that himself?"

"He's a man," Sara laughed. "And they don't always tell you how they really, I mean really, feel about you and how much you mean to them. I'm just his friend, so it's easier to share that with me. Don't tell anyone this, but last year I found a letter in a book that Grissom wrote to me, but he never did give it to me straight. What's that all about?"

"Grissom!" Mandy said. "I guess he's got a romantic side under that intellectual exterior."

"Oh yeah," Sara said, "he does, but men are strange creatures. In a lot of ways, Nick and Grissom are a lot alike. I think you should just try to work it out, okay? Cut him some slack, Mandy."

"It doesn't matter. I'm not…he's too...it wasn't going to work." She stood up, tears rimming around her eyes. "I gotta go."

xxXXxx

Nick sat on the floor in his living room trying to put his CDs back together in some order. After Grisosm left, he and the guys went off and picked up some stands for his CDs and DVDs. Somehow they miraculously survived McVeigh's rampage.

He found an _REM Greatest Hits Collection_ and smiled. He liked the band and they were southerners. Not all southerners become country music stars, nor do all southerners listen to nothing but country music. Nick learned, however, perception is often stronger then reality and that assumptions are often static.

Nick put the CD into the player and picked out _E-Bow The Letter_. He wasn't sure why he liked this song. Patti Smith sounded great on it, but the lead singer spent more time talking than singing. The guy had a great voice.

George glared from the top of his scratching post. Nick had spent the past two days assuring the little man that he was still the 'main dude in the house' although Nick also reminded the cat that HE was the Alpha male...head of the pack…head of the house! The Lion King, so to speak.

"_You're the first guy I've ever met who actually cried during Dumbo!"_

_Eponine smiled at him amused as he walked into the kitchen after Stephanie went to bed. He went to the washroom to wash his face._

"_Don't tell anyone." He smiled, embarrassed. "I'll even shove a few bucks your way if you need it."_

"_Oh, I think it's sexy."Eponine grinned._

The Texan reached for Al Gore's _An Inconvenient Truth _to set aside for later viewing so he could fantasize again about being in the middle of the melting ice cap waiting for the hungry polar bear to come and devour him.

_Now that's enough, Nick!_

After arranging his media collection, he decided to grab a beer and dose off in front of the TV. Nick still tired easily, but that was due more in part to unending sadness that seemed to possess him like a demon. He didn't like that feeling, but the solution sat on the kitchen counter and he hated that even more.

His bed had survived the attack, but the last time he had slept in it, Mandy was with him. So the past few nights had him on the couch with the dog by his side and the cat on his chest.

Grabbing a can of Coors out of the fridge, he strolled to the couch to sit down and relax when the door bell rang. Nervous and curious, he slowly made his way to the door to see who would be calling at this hour. It was 11:00 p.m.

He peeked through the peephole and his eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat because outside was none other than Mandy.

Nick opened the door and looked out. "Hi."

She was wearing her blue lab coat, her hair up in a pony tail. Her makeup was smeared and her hands were pressed together as she smiled crookedly and said in a fleeting voice, "Hey."

They looked at each warily and she asked, "Can I…can I come in?"

He studied her, noticing her eyes were red, her pony tail limp, and her body tight and uneasy. His mouth tightened. "I guess."

Nick stepped aside and watched as she walked in, his arms folded, and then closed the door behind her.

REM continued to play on. The melancholic guitar e-bow vibrations filled the room as Michael Stipe sang/spoke:

_I don't want to disappoint you  
I'm not here to anoint you  
I would lick your feet  
But is that the sickest move?  
I wear my own crown and sadness and sorrow  
And who'd have thought tomorrow could be so strange?  
My loss, and here we go again_

_**A/N: Check this song out on You Tube as well as Country Feedback by REM, they fit the mood of this and the next chapter.**_

_**I'm not sure what kind of music Nick likes. And since I'm not one for stereotyping (or at least I try not), I picked the kind of music that I enjoy**_


	22. Chapter 22

**IRREVERSIBLE**

CHAPTER 22

_Warning: Naughty talk and naughty, naughty scenes_

_Thanks Smokey for your edits_

"Would you like a beer?" he asked, unsure of what to say or how to say it.

"No, that's okay." She set her backpack of a purse down on the table and fidgeted with her horseshoe necklace, a good luck charm which hadn't been of much use to her lately. She studied the house, noticing the different furniture. The blank, dark coloured walls looked lonely. REM was playing.

She looked at him again. Nick was wearing a tan, long sleeved shirt, untucked, and baggy, light blue jeans. The bruises on his face were yellowing a bit, including the one in the middle of his forehead, rectangular shaped, like his door handle.

"How are you doing?" she finally asked.

He shrugged. "I'm good. I've just been resting and getting my house back in order and taking care of Zack."

"Zack?" she asked.

"Yeah, my dog." Nick pointed back to the dining room where the dog lay sleeping in his crate.

"He's...interesting looking," Mandy observed.

"Yeah, he's a nice dog." Nick shoved his hands into his pockets and then asked, "Would you like to have a seat?"

"Sure," she nodded awkwardly.

"I only have one seat…the couch from Warrick. I'm just waiting for the cheque from the insurance company," Nick explained the lack of décor. "So far I have a TV, not a great one, and a stereo and not much else. He trashed the living room and the dining room pretty bad."

Mandy looked around. "Why didn't Mrs. Matthews hear anything?"

"She wasn't home when he was here. By the time she got back, George was already in her tree," Nick explained as he sat down next to Mandy as far off on the other end of the couch as he could muster.

REM sang about _Shiney Happy People_ while Nick tried to gauge Mandy's emotions at the moment. She was certainly nervous, and why was she here in her lab gear?

"Did you just finish work?" he asked as he sipped his beer.

"Yeah, you know what? I'll take that beer after all." She looked at him and then looked away.

"Sure, I'll get it for you."

Mandy fumbled with the lining of her skirt and then a beer was in thrust in her face.

"Here. It's cold."

"Good. Thanks." She opened it, took a sip, and set it down beside her.

George trotted over and rubbed her leg. He purred and then jumped on the arm of the couch and head butted Mandy who whispered, "Hey bud, my bed is sure lonely at night. All I've got are my vibrator and my fantasies about the southern guy on that forensics crime show."

"Wow!" Nick exclaimed eyes wide, "Really? Hodges passed the blow up doll over to me, but it's got a hole in it now. I was thinking of dumping it on top of the Under Sheriff's car when no one's looking, but Warrick talked me out of it. So we'll just put it under Ecklie's car instead."

Mandy stared at Nick and smiled. "You guys are not busy enough in the lab these days."

"No, just working off some stress." He smiled.

Biting her lip, Mandy studied his face and the brown eyes that twinkled when he was happy or when he was being a prankster and darkened to almost black when he was angry or tearful. So much of Nick's facial expressions came from his eyes.

Right now, his eyes were hovering on black, but looking at them a little more closely she could see that Nick was somewhat happy to see her. In her mind, Mandy rehearsed what she wanted to say and how she would say it and prepared herself emotionally and mentally for the response.

"So what brings you here, Mandy?" Nick finally asked flatly, turning away from her intense gaze and leaning his head into his hand. He wasn't up for emotional drama. He was drained and simply wanted to drink himself into a stupor as the dog would have him out early in the morning. He could just hear Mrs. Matthews shouting her opinion at him from her stoop whether he wanted to hear it or not as she watched him stumble down the street with a hangover.

Mandy stared straight ahead. "I…came to say…that I'm very, very sorry for what happened at the hospital and for not being there when you needed me. I was very wrong to react the way I did and…that...I'm..." Her voice was sounding tight, but she cleared her throat and then decided to stay quiet before she burst into tears and threw herself down on her knees and begged him to come back to her. After all, she had her pride.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nick take a drink of his beer and place it down on the floor, sighing heavily before folding his arms.

_Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. He was sick of apologies. Nick was tired of apologies and people expecting him to simply forgive them after they put him through the spin cycle of emotional hell. _

"I'm sorry too," he finally replied. "I don't know why I said her name. I was out of it."

"I know. It just hurt like you wouldn't believe," Mandy told him. "I know the past year has really sucked for you, and I didn't help matters."

"Oh you got that right." Nick's eyes widened at that. "You dumped me in the hospital, Mandy. How cold is that?"

"Pretty cold."

"I mean, I fucked up, but you could have waited until I got out and was a little bit back to normal."

"I was hurt," she explained, leaning back into the couch and fumbling with the end of her lab coat. "I was overwhelmed seeing you lay there all banged up, and I freaked when you said her name. I just walked out."

"I know, but I don't know why I said her name," Nick insisted.

"What does she mean to you?" Mandy asked, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

Sighing, Nick said tentatively, "She was there at a really dark time when I was really going through hell. You know why I was there."

"I know," she said, "you told me."

"And I guess she redirected me and..."

"Gave you great sex." Mandy's eyes grew dark at the mere mention of them together.

Nick knew he should be annoyed at her jealousy, but there was a small part of him enjoying it because if anything it meant she sure and hell loved him; just as there mere mention of her 'mercy' date with Henry incensed him.

But back to more serious matters.

"It was more than that. It was just…she…Mandy, she's a really nice lady, and like you she's a smart woman, but if I hadn't refocused on her I might have gone through with my plan to off McVeigh."

"Like that Rolling Stones song, _Emotional Rescue_," Mandy snorted.

"Hardly an emotional rescue," Nick said. "It's just that up until her I never told anyone about the assault on me at the prison except my doctor."

Mandy turned to him and said, "Denial."

"Partly. Can you blame me?"

"No, I don't blame you," Mandy said.

"Every day after the attack, something or someone would trigger an intrusive thought or memory, and then I wanted them gone. Just off the planet. And when I got sick, that was the last straw. I was ready to finish them." He looked over at the lab tech who continued to stare down at her lab coat and continued, "Those bastards gave me Hepatitis B on top of everything else they did to me."

"I know."

"And it wasn't just the...physical part of it. I mean, they did other things to me too, things I just couldn't bring myself to testify about; partly because I still had a mental block, but also because, well...some of the evidence was logged, and so I didn't need to say anything. Only lately, memories have started to come back to me."

Mandy swallowed hard and asked, "Like what?"

"I can't talk about it. Just read the evidence log." Nick grimaced and wanted to tell her that they had..well oral sex was not an act he was ready to engage in for a long time-a very long time. Rather sad, he, like all men loved it, but now it was ruined for him.

"Is it healthy to remember all that crap?" Mandy asked. "How is that going to help you?" She reached over and slowly put her hand on his knee, wondering if he would shove it away.

Instead, he grabbed it and squeezed so hard his college ring pressed into her fingers.

"It won't," Nick said, "but I needed to know how I could have gotten to that point where I wanted to. And I hope I never get to that point again because revenge, once acted on, is irreversible."

Mandy looked down and then back up at him. "I used to counsel women at college who had been raped, and it's normal to have revenge fantasies, Nick. Your reaction was normal."

"I took it beyond a fantasy, though," Nick sighed. "That's what scares me. Under any other circumstance, I'd never kill anyone unless it was self defense or trying to rescue someone else."

"No, you wouldn't, Nick," Mandy implored. "But you were traumatized. You weren't thinking rationally."

There was a long pause as Nick collected himself and said, "Eponine started to come around the trailer I was in and kind of kept me from retreating into that abyss of revenge. And no, it wasn't just the sex. It was just having someone around that didn't know me too well and wasn't going to pass judgment on me for what happened. I couldn't tell anyone here because they knew me too well. It was too hard to face my team and to face the world in general. I felt like I had this big sign on my huge forehead that flashed my attack for all the world to see."

"So that's why Eponine meant so much to you," Mandy commented more to herself than to Nick.

"Yeah," Nick answered, "that's why."

"And I'm second fiddle." Mandy's shoulders slouched upon this remark.

"No, you're not," Nick retorted softly. "Far from it."

"Then what I am to you?" She eyed him, waiting to hear the truth. He owed her that much.

He looked her straight in the eye. "You're not...or...were not...just my girlfriend. You became my best friend. That's even better than salvation, because eventually that role changes. And I really didn't know her, so who knows and who cares? Obviously she was there for a reason, but then that was that?"

Flushing on the compliment, Mandy looked back at him. "Thought the best friend was Warrick's job."

"Yeah, it is, but he's second fiddle now," Nick said with a meaningful smile that warmed her heart among other things.

"I'm still your best friend?" Mandy asked, brightening, feeling a knot that had been with her for several days loosening.

"Well," Nick flashed a mischievous smile, "you owe me big time for dumping me in a hospital bed, so you have a lot to make up for."

Biting her lower lip again, Mandy looked down and back up. "Yeah I do, don't I?"

"You bet. So tomorrow you'll be coming to obedience classes with Zack and me. I need a dog walker for when I have long shifts," Nick explained.

Looking crestfallen, Mandy muttered, "Oh."

The Texan turned his head away, smiling in amusement as he kind of understood her disappointment, but hell…he wasn't going to make it easy for her. Because he also had some big news to share with her that could change everything, and he wanted to make sure he was up front and honest before allowing any relationship to flourish.

"There's something you should know, Mandy," Nick told her solemnly. "I have to go for an interview with the United Nations Office of Drugs and Crime to work in one of their offices in South Africa. The woman interviewing me is a friend of Sara's, and they are looking for someone to go there for a few months. The money isn't great, but it would be really interesting. She's in town visiting Sara and wants to meet with me at Grissom's. It's pretty informal, but her colleagues are coming in for a convention, so I'll do the formal interview there."

He watched her expression carefully.

Mandy's eyes widened as she digested the information and then slowly nodded as she said, "If you get it, you have to go. It would be a once in a lifetime chance for you."

"You're okay with that?" Nick asked. "I don't have to go if you don't want me to."

_Oh hell yeah, he wanted to go. He was ready to explore life outside of Vegas and this job meant that not only would he get the respect he yearned for from higher ups, but also opportunities to teach what he learned in his years to those who had yet to learn._

_Sara had told him that French was a requirement of almost all jobs at the UN, but that didn't mean he couldn't apply as having any second language was an advantage._

_Besides Sara (and of course Grissom), only his parents knew, and they were thrilled and proud as peacocks, but he told them that he may not get it. He didn't have a Masters in Criminology as the job required. More or less, he fit into the "or equivalent" category. He was competing with high profile law enforcement officials from around the globe, many a lot older then he or if younger had more education then he did. But Nick was no slouch either as he'd been in this field since he was 22 years old. 15 years of experience never hurt. Hopefully that would fit the "or equivalent" category._

_It wouldn't hurt to try, and having a connection didn't hurt either. The woman, Mrs. Amy Kilpatrick, told him that Sara had spoken glowingly of him and that a reference letter had been submitted by Dr. Gil Grissom that was almost embarrassingly 'gushing' of his achievements._

"No, you have to go. It's a great opportunity."

_Good answer, Mandy._

"It is. It's only three months though." He smiled assumingly. "I'm not looking to live elsewhere, but this would be friggin' awesome, Mandy. I get to take a leadership role here. I get people looking up to me, respecting me…something I never get at my job where I'm known as the guy who supposedly has a rage diary hiding somewhere, planning my Day of Justice." Nick rolled his eyes at such hilarity.

"I never get respect either, Nick," Mandy said. "I'm just this quirky lab tech who sits and looks at prints all day like Warrick said to me once."

"Oh ignore Warrick, and if you have to know, he was planning on talking to you, but then I heard Sara got to you first."

"Yeah, she did. She talked about Lady Heather and how Eponine was your Lady Heather."

Nick laughed, "Oh was she? Yeah, I guess she was in her own way…definitely not a dominatrix, but she's a decent girl who reminded me that my face lit up when I talked about you."

Mandy stared at him in disbelief. "Really?!"

"Yeah, really," Nick nodded his head. "Mandy, my quick tempered little foal."

She scrunched her nose at him, "Go get your chaps and Stetson out!"

"I don't have any chaps. I don't like them. They feel weird on me."

"I'd like to see you in them." Mandy smiled shyly.

"I'd like to see you in them without anything else," Nick flirted.

"You have to earn that one, buddy."

"Uh, excuse me, guy dumped in the hospital bed sitting here." Nick pointed to himself. "So you have to earn your way back into this broken heart, woman!"

"Oh yeah?!"

"Yeah!" He leaned over and kissed her, a sweet tender one that lit them both up.

"We'd survive," Mandy said.

"Yeah," Nick answered and said slyly, "Think of all the great MSN sex we'll be having."

"Sounds intriguing. Web cam too?" Mandy bit her lower lip, cheeks flushed red.

"Yeah, with those chaps I'm gonna buy you, and I want a good show from you and your vibrator." He pointed at himself, watching her face go crimson.

"What about you?! You gonna strip down for me on a web cam and give me a show?"

"Only if you promise that Wendy, Jacqui, and Judy aren't there to watch!" Nick narrowed his eyes.

"I'd never do that!" Mandy laughed. "Cut me some slack here."

"No I'll just do a Tom Cruise bit from Risky Business for you." He joked.

"Oh God, please don't!!" The lab tech groaned.

"What if I do the Radiohead guy instead, or Bono, or I could do that song _End of the World_ by REM in sunglasses and jockeys for you." Nick laughed, "That's kind of become of theme song of my life."

"Yeah that would be pretty cool to see you do that, and that's not your theme song."

Their faces were beet red from the naughty talk and promises of peep shows when the sad guitar rift of REM's _Country Feedback_ caught their attention. The lab tech beamed, "Oh, I love this song."

"Yeah, I actually like it too," Nick agreed and then stood up and said, "I don't think we've ever danced, have we?"

"No, we haven't," Mandy told him. "At the Christmas parties it was always you and Catherine or Sophia or you and Wendy."

"And you and Henry!" Nick reminded her and held out a hand to her. "And you and Bobby Dawson and Archie and Greg and..."

"Okay I get it! Our paths never crossed," Mandy said. "This is more of a 'drinking 'til you're blue in the face because life sucks' song for us, isn't it?"

"So what?" Nick told her and pulled her into a slow dance, arms around her waist, holding her tight.

Mandy snickered, loving the feeling of his arms around her while she wrapped her arms around his neck, noticing how good he smelled today with that cologne he wore and his freshly shaved face.

"And even if you don't get the job," she whispered huskily, "I'll still wear the chaps, only you'll get control of my vibrator."

"Sounds like a plan to me," he whispered back, holding her tighter. "I could think of a million ways to use that thing. What colour is it?"

Mandy giggled, "Uh...pink."

"Pink. Kinky."

"Had to use something to get by until you came along."

"Uh huh!" Nick grinned at her and then hummed along with the sad tune.

They swayed from side to side, their bodies tingling and yearning as Michael Stipe from REM sang,

_A winter rain, a honey pot_

_Crazy all the lovers have been tagged_

_A hot line, wanted ad_

_Crazy what we could have had._

"I wonder what he means about paper weight and a honey pot?" Mandy asked.

"I don't know. The honey pot bit makes me think of _Winnie the Pooh,_" Nick answered dryly.

"What character what you be?" Mandy asked, bracing for the laughter as she already knew which _Winnie the Pooh_ character he'd be.

"I think I'd be Eeyore," Nick answered and then mimicked the depressed donkey, "I'd say to Warrick, 'Yo, bro, would you perchance kindly put my hat back on?'"

The two of them broke into a fit of laughter and sighing. Mandy leaned her head on his chest and listened to his heart pounding away like Thumper in _Bambi _and wondered if he cried when the baby deer's mother got shot. Probably, knowing him.

"Let me ask you something?" Nick whispered, noticing that there was some response happening down south. "Why didn't you turn away from me when I told you what happened at the prison?"

"Because," she answered, looking him ruefully, "I cared about you too much to do something cruel like that. I didn't feel sorry for you, but sorry that it happened and angry at the people who did it and angry that you became a victim again."

"But at the hospital? My angst." He eyed her, noting a hint of hypocrisy.

"At the hospital I guess I was frightened and thought I'd lose you, and I couldn't deal with it, so it was easier. I'm not perfect. Tammy Wynette sang about 'standing by your man.' It's harder than it sounds, so I'm sorry I got weak there, but the final straw was you calling for Eponine. I thought you needed her and you didn't need me."

"I do need you," he told her and then held her face in his hands and implored, "But you need to give me a break and just let me be the fucked up person I am. What do you expect after all the crap that's happened to me? Just go my merry way like some episodic TV series?"

Mandy tentatively reached up and gently took his hands and kissed and nuzzled them. "I think for a guy who's gone through all these tragedies, you've done well. You just got attacked, and then weeks later you're solving the murder of a little girl. That's incredible. I don't know anyone else who could have done that, and you were sick too. My God, if that's not superhero power then what the hell is?"

"Yeah, gotta do what's got to be done." And then he added, "Speaking of her, her mom contacted Public Affairs and invited me to an unveiling of a mural done in her honour."

"You'll go, of course." Mandy smiled proudly at him.

"I don't know if it is good idea for me to go," Nick answered, skepticism crossing his face.

"You have to go. Her mother wants you there," Mandy insisted. "I'll go with you." She caressed his cheek, tracing the laugh lines down to the mole and then along his lips and down his chin.

"Sure, that would be great," he said as the sadness of the tune seemed to add to the tension building between them, her hand on his cheek stirring him.

Their voices had become mere whispers that only they could hear, and with freshly built walls broken away and deeper understanding of the issues and promises made to work things through no matter how bad it got, the comfort level was reached to take the dance onward and into the bedroom. Nick closed the door behind him to prevent an audience, knowing George was teaching Zack some bad habits.

Just then the CD player kicked over to a U2 mix with _All I Want Is You._

_You say you want diamonds_

_On a ring of gold_

_Your story to remain untold_

"You know, those guys have a new album coming out?" Nick told her as he walked towards her, "And so they usually tour after that. You wanna go see them?" He was babbling again because hell, it was still nerve wracking.

Mandy pulled him to her, kissing him soundly and pulling his shirt up over his head as she nodded and then whispered to get focused in the present. She sighed, sadly, at the sight of the bruises on his chest and looked up at him, tears in her eyes.

"I look like I got hit by a truck, right?" Nick smiled at her sad face and then pulled her into his arms. "Hey, I weeble and I wobble and I fall down, but like the boxing clown I rise back up."

The lab tech giggled, "And that's after you've had a few beers." She stroked his chest, looking back at him.

"Yeah, I remember going to this pub with Warrick and trying to do a jig and I fell flat on my ass."

"Oh, poor baby!" Mandy mocked. "I would have kissed it for you."

"Ewww," Nick groaned, "that's…" He smiled mischievously. "Kinky!!"

Mandy gently stroked him and then leaned over and ran her tongue along his chest, planting open mouth kisses on each bruise up and down his torso. She slowly walked behind him and ran her hands up and down his back and, continuing to kiss more bruises before sliding in front of him and catching a glimpse at the scar on his neck from where Grissom had performed the tracheotomy. She touched it gently and stroked the slightly jagged edge.

"Wow," Mandy said, "I can't believe Grissom did this."

"I'd do it for him or anyone in the same predicament," Nick said, taking her hand and kissing it, then sucking on each digit slowly, sending shivers down her spine and jolts to her nether land while her heart rate sped up dangerously and her breathing deepened.

She slid her arms around his slender waist and hitched her lips to his neck and sucked gently before moving her lips up and finally on his mouth, feeling his hands tug the ponytail out of its holder and his fingers rake through her hair before holding her face.

His eyes were intense staring into hers, causing Mandy to feel her knees weaken. She loved that look. She loved watching that look when he was focused on some prints she presented to him and when she walked by the layout room and watched him. She would daydream about that look.

"You know what?" he drawled, his accent thick.

"What?"

"You've still got your lab coat on. Are you always this forgetful?" He let go of her face, walked behind her, and slid the blue, cottony fabric off.

"Only when you're around," she said huskily as she felt his hands rubbing her arms. "I just seem to forget the entire world."

"Yeah, I've noticed you seem distracted at work. I should probably send Warrick or Greg to get my prints," he whispered in her ear, the feeling of his breath causing a tingly sensation.

"Not a bad idea. I might drag you into the locker room and into the shower and give you the blow job of the century," she hissed, feeling his lips on her neck. "I can give one to you now if you want."

_Were they…? They were. Oh fuck, man!!_

"No, I…can't handle...that now," Nick stuttered. "No, not yet...sorry."

She shook her head. "No, don't be sorry. It's okay. Remember the last time? I said there are other ways to pleasure each other." She turned around and started unbuttoning his pants. His hands came up, but instead of snatching her hands away he joined her. Progress made.

He leaned in to suck her neck while finally ridding her of the damn skirt, pushing it along with her nylons and underwear downward. Mandy helped by pushing them to her ankles and stepping out of them. She lifted her arms as her turtleneck sleeveless top was pulled up and over her head and tossed to the side, her bra meeting the same fate.

She reached over, smiling tenderly at him, and slid his already open pants down. They dropped lazily to his ankles, and he stepped out of them. Then the jockies came off.

Together they slid under a brand new comforter and he crawled on top of her. Mandy had to admit there was something very, very sensual about having Nick lay on her versus her being on top.

Especially when his mouth was on her breasts, sucking and licking her breasts as she ran her fingers through his hair. God she loved that hair of his, silky soft waves.

The adage about the best part of breaking up being the making up was never truer as their bodies melted into each other, reacquainting with one another as their mouths sought out and devoured one another as their hands slid into crevices, stroking and kneading as their eyes stayed glued to each other, brown on brown.

She had nearly lost him twice; one time where his existence would simply cease and the other an existence of her without him there. Nonetheless, there would be equal amounts of sheer heartache and pain; the pain of which she channeled into her love making. Still respecting newer boundaries, she lavished him with her mouth and hands, stroking his chest. Her fingers entwined on his neck as she felt him teasing her and tormenting her with his erection. His hands were stroking the most sensitive parts of her, sending jolts through her body as his fingers teased her nub. Then she reached for his side table drawer as the teasing was driving her into frenzy and she wanted him inside her at this precise moment.

"McVeigh wasn't HIV positive. Doc ran tests…," he told her, much to her delight. "Are you okay with…?"

Nick wasn't allowed to finish as she kissed him with ardent fury and wrapped her legs around his waist, encouraging him to enter. She didn't have to continue as she felt him inside her, her loins and heart relieved of their longing. After she dumped him, her heart had felt crushed and angry with her for being such a dumb ass.

He couldn't remember the last time he was inside a woman without a rubber, probably because he hadn't been in a solid relationship long enough to have a good idea of the person's history, but man did he miss it. The warmth of feeling moist skin on moist skin could not in any way be replicated with man-made devices promising to do so.

With his arms he framed her face, softly kissing it as he thrust in and out slowly and deeply, relieved to have her back but still somewhat angered and hurt and a tad distrustful. But he was confident that they would soon build those bridges again…even more solid bridges, in fact.

"I missed you," she whispered as he paused to catch his breath and then continued.

"I missed you too, Mandy, my dandy Mandy." He smiled warmly at her, kissing her adorable nose. "I'm glad you popped over."

"Me too," she breathed as she kissed back. Frig! He missed that luscious mouth and those sultry eyes on his were making it very hard to hold back. Not to mention his throat still hurt and his body ached from his ordeal, but he forged on because dammit life was too short to stay angry with people who want to love you. You have got to forgive them for their mistakes. Lack of forgiveness was saved for those who were never sorry for their evil deeds and Nick had enough parts of him that struggled to forgive to allow it to seep to the areas of his self that did forgive.

As if their bodies were in tune with each other, they moved into different positions. Mandy crawled on top, palms on his chest as she rocked him, squeezed him, and leaned over to kiss him deeply, holding the headboard behind him until he gripped her and sat up, nuzzling himself into her chest before turning her back around and getting on top again.

Their pace hastened as Mandy closed her eyes, bit her lips, and arched her neck back as a small wave hit her. She felt his lips on her neck before gripping his shoulders tightly as another wave started lifting her and her body began tingling. Moans escaped her lips as she called his name and encouraged him to go faster which he obliged readily.

"Nick?"

"Yeah?" He looked down at her and the look on her face was very serious, freaking him out a bit. _Oh shit, what now?! What could I have possibly done wrong in the past few minutes?_

"I uh...uh…love you," she whispered. "I really freakin' do."

"You really freakin' do?" He smiled, amused.

"Yeah, I freakin' do," she giggled.

"Well, I freakin' love you too." He planted a kiss on her forehead and continued to fuck her even more urgently knowing he was ready to hit the home base. Not having the rubber on and feeling her wet inside so closely made it harder and harder to hold on.

And she didn't help matters. "Oh fuck, I can't wait to feel you…" She was puffing and whimpering, "Come inside me…can't wait..."

She didn't have to wait long as she felt hot juices coat her, warming her up as she leaned into the pillow, crying out in delight his name and few deities causing Nick, even in an orgasmic state, to wonder if the man upstairs was shaking his head in exasperation as he probably got lots of those calls.

Sweating and clammy, they lay entangled, trying to regroup. It wasn't the most creative sex they'd had in the three times, but it was the most emotionally intense session.

Once collected, he looked down and chuckled at the tears sliding down her face and asked, "Okay, are those from disappointment or happiness?"

"Oh God, you never disappoint in this area," Mandy laughed, wiping the tears away. "I'm just relieved…" She was still gasping and tingling from the climax and continued, "I'm relieved that we worked things out," the lab tech said as she ran her hands up and down his sweaty back, feeling drips of sweat from his forehead fall on her. She swallowed and continued to collect herself. "It never hurt so much in my life to break up with someone. I was just so angry and confused when you said her name."

"When you walked out on me, I thought I was having a heart attack," he whispered, kissing her forehead, his arms on either side of her head. He swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry." She looked up, tears still spilling.

"Forget about it, Mandy," Nick told her. "It's all in the past, okay? We worked it out."

Mandy stared up and noticed he had some tears in his eyes as well, and she reached up and stroked them. "You're so hot when you get emotional."

"Yeah, I guess if_ People_ magazine put out a magazine of _Most Emotional Men_, I'd win that one hands down." Nick grinned wryly, making sure he wiped those damn leaky faucets. He swore there was leak there and wished there was some kind of plumber that could fix them.

He really hated those faucets.

"You okay?" Mandy noticed his thoughts were elsewhere.

"Perfect!" Nick came back and smiled down her, kissing her again on the mouth and muttering something about going for two for two. She readily complied.

"_Your girl sure is cute!"_

Nick looked around, startled. "Did you hear that?"

"No," Mandy shook her head and noticed his face had gone white.

"There's someone here, Mandy."

"I didn't hear anything," she told him, disappointed, as he climbed off her and pulled his clothes on fast and grabbed the gun out of his side table drawer.

"Nick, relax for God's sake. There's no one here."

"Yeah, there is," he growled, sounding more like a dog than Nick. He left the room and started walking around the house nervously.

Mandy watched, pulling her clothes on. There was no one in the house, but she couldn't convince him otherwise. He'd have to figure this one out on his own.

She followed him out as he walked around, checking the spare room, the bathroom, and the kitchen. He then leaned against the wall in the living room as he checked, double checked, and triple checked his alarm system

Finally, he turned to her, his eyes black with fear, and dropped the gun on the table. "The son of a bitch was in my house, Mandy. He was in my fucking house."

She walked over to him and hugged him. "Yeah, he was, but he's dead now. He's dead."

"Until someone else comes along," Nick muttered. "First there was Amy Hendler, then Nigel Crane, then Walter Gordon and Sylvia Mullins."

Mandy had heard the tales through the lab and she grabbed his hands. "All those people are totally messed up, Nick, and you know you just happened to have the bad luck to run into all of them in a span of the many years you've been in Vegas."

"It's all part of my job, I guess. I'm dealing with dangerous people."

"And you can't quit your job or quit life and let them get the best of you. Just show them that they can't win." Mandy rubbed his shoulders. "You're tougher than that."

"Yeah, I am actually," Nick agreed. "But my dad told me there's so much corruption within LVPD. One of these days, one of them is going to get to me or one of my teammates."

"Can't live life like that, Nick," Mandy told him. "Just keep going and eventually it will all come out."

Nick smiled at her and then blurted out, "Move in with me?"

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"You know, this house…it's pretty empty when you're not around. So move in with me?"

The lab tech studied his puppy dog eyes and said, "But we work together, and now we're gonna live together?"

"We don't work in the same area," Nick insisted and then pointed out, "My fugly t-carpet is gone."

"We've only been dating a few weeks. You're pushin' it," Mandy said. "I'll stay here with George and Zack while you're gone, though.:

"Okay, but I'll give you two drawers in my room," Nick told her, "and one side of my bathroom, so you can stay here a few days a week avec moi. Mais oui?"

Mandy brightened. "I can live with that. I can stay here a couple of nights a week."

They seated themselves in front of the couch while Nick turned on the movie channel and laughed when he saw _Sweeney Todd_.

"I like this movie!" he told her.

"You like musicals?"

"I like this one." He was gong to add _We Will Rock You_, but decided that would start the whole downward spiral of Eponine and wisely decided that Mandy may never completely understand the whole relationship, so it was best to drop it. It wasn't worth fighting over anymore.

Eponine was gone and Mandy was here and that's all that matters because the lab tech was his best friend.

_xxXXxx_

"_How's about a shave, Mr. McKeen?!" _

_Nick stood in front of the Under Sheriff, brandishing a silver razor. The man was seated contently in the barber's chair, his face lathered._

"_Don't I know you?"_

_Nick leaned over and said in a cockney British accent, "I guess the face of a CSI Level III is quite forgettable to you, sir?"_

_McKeen's face widened in horror. "Nicholas Stokes."_

"_Nicholas Stokes!!" Nick screamed as he plunged the razor into his neck. Blood spurted from the jugular wound as McKeen gagged and screamed._

_Blood soaked, Nick walked calmly around to the back of the chair as if in a trance and stepped on the lever. The chair straightened as the trap door opened, and like a sack of potatoes the Under Sheriff slid through the door and it closed._

"_Well, well, didn't think you had it in you, judge's boy, but you do."_

_Nick whipped around and to his horror saw McVeigh holding a knife to Mandy's throat as she cried out his name._

"_Whom should I do first? Your cute little girl here or you? Decisions. Decisions."_

"Mandy!!" Nick sat up and looked around the bedroom where they had gone after watching the rest of _Sweeney Todd_. Mandy had told Nick he looked more like Johnny Depp than the George dude on the crime show.

The Texan pulled on a t-shirt and jeans and ran for the door, dodging down the steps and yelling, "Mandy! Mandy!!"

"Hey, Marlon Brando, quit the yelling!! She's taken your ugly dog out for a walk!!"

Nick whipped around and saw Mrs. Matthews sitting on her stoop with 7 cats. How many did she have anyway?

"There she is now!" The old lady pointed behind Nick who turned and saw Mandy walking up the street with a skittish Zack who practically tripped the woman in his attempt to hide from all the bad noises that filled his sensitive Jack Russell ears.

Mandy looked up at Nick, concerned. "What's wrong, Nick?!"

"Where the hell were you?!" he snapped, his eyes black with fear, hands on his hips, nostrils flared.

The lab tech was taken aback. She was not used to seeing Nick like this. She only saw it in the hospital, and even that was scary. She'd heard rumours that he had one hell of a temper, and most of the time he had control of it, but she recalled Greg's small bruise when the Texan gripped his shoulder during the 'crimestopper' incident.

"Your dog needed to go for a walk," she answered timidly. Oh my god, was she in trouble?!

"You could have told me!!" Nick's eyes were blazing.

"You were sleeping," Mandy insisted. Now she was annoyed and concerned because behind the anger was a look of fear.

The Texan stared down her. "Next time, wake me up and tell me where you are. You scared the shit out of me!!" His voice was low and irate.

It was on the tip of her tongue to bite back, "Who the fuck are you? My father?!" along with some curse words, but instead she breathed back her anger and focused on containing the situation as she could see that Zack had peed on the ground in fear of the Texan.

However, Mrs. Matthews didn't hold back and called out, "Hey listen here, Nick! Who the hell are you to tell her anything? She's a grown woman, and unless you're planning on relocating to Utah and starting up a polygamist cult…and I wouldn't put it past you, cowboy…put a sock in it."

Infuriated, Nick turned around and was about to let loose on the old lady despite mom's teachings about respecting elders but found himself being yanked away by Mandy who lugged both the angry Texan and the terrified-to-the-point-of-peeing-everywhere dog up the stairs and into the house.

After she closed the door behind them, she let Zack off his leash. He ran up and barked at George who sat on top of his scratching post licking his paw. In response, the cat simply tossed Nick's LVPD baseball hat down where Zack caught it and started to chew on it.

Nick watched the activity blankly, too tired to care. He only hoped his hat would survive the attack and then wondered how George got the hat up there in the first place, but this was his cat - the cat who brought home teddy bears and packs of cigarettes.

Mandy brought a bottle of water over, sat on the couch, and grabbed his hand. "What happened to bring that on?"

"I woke up hearing his fucking voice again," Nick said running a hand over his face.

"You think that's just gonna go away?" she asked. "When do you see your therapist?"

"Later today."

"You're damn straight!" Mandy said authoritatively. "I'm gonna ask Jacqui to cover my shift and I'll be there."

Nick looked at her wearily.

"You're not gonna go through this second time with McVeigh alone, dude! I'm staying on with you whether you like it or not. You've gone through too much crap on your own. Now it's time to open the door and let someone in. I know I bailed a few days ago, but I'm here now."

"I don't know if I should take that job, Mandy. I'm not ready yet. It's not over with McVeigh. It will never be over."

Mandy curled up closely to him and brought him to her chest while he sighed heavily. "It's never gonna be over." Then he looked at her ruefully. "I'm sorry about all that. I just freaked when you weren't here because he saw you before he kidnapped me."

Her face was stricken as he continued, "It's a damn good thing you didn't come in the house that day, or he would have gotten both of us."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Mandy leaned back into the couch and surmised, "I'm glad he's dead. I don't wish that on anyone, but I do with him."

Then she sat up and petted his leg. "Go get dressed, Nick, and we'll stop for some breakfast, and then I need to go to my house to pick up some stuff and then we'll just hang out by Lake Mead before your appointment."

"Yeah, let's do that," Nick agreed and went to go change into some fresh clothes.

xxXXxx

"Nick, given what you've told me about your behavior this morning, I think you might be suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder…overreactions to minor incidents, reliving the whole ordeal in your mind, flashbacks, intrusive thoughts," Dr. Marsmann explained.

"I'm surprised I didn't develop it after I was buried alive," Nick said, knowing full well that he had.

"Well, maybe you've been compartmentalizing everything for so long that there was leakage."

"Yeah, I guess my mind had its limit and it's been reached. So what do I do?"

"Well, medication and therapy and learning how to turn the volume down on your interpretations of events and happenings so your reactions are not so intense."

"That takes time."

"It does. Why is that an issue?"

He told her about the job and she said, her eyes concerned, "I don't see why you have to let this stop you. As long as you are aware of triggers around that may cause an intense reaction, we can work on methods to cope with them until you leave."

Nick nodded in relief and looked around her office.

"You look very tired, Nick. Have you been sleeping okay?"

He shook his head. "The last thing I see in my head are his eyes on me when he was throttling me, like…like the way sharks get when they've nabbed their prey…almost blind."

Dr. Marsmann sighed and looked at him empathetically and said, "This job overseas isn't going to make all that go away, Nick."

"That's not why I'm doing it. Well, yeah…I just need a change of scenery and time away from the lab," Nick explained. "My dad told me that there's so much corruption going on in there that I just don't want to be there for the time being. I just want a chance to meet new people and see new places. I've lived in a bubble, always American, and now I want to go and expand my horizons. It's only three months."

"How is your sleep?" she asked, changing the subject. "Are you resting well at night? If you're going to take this job then you'll need your health to be in fine form. It's going to require all the mental and physical health you have. You need to talk to your family doctor."

"He'll just put me on pills." Nick shook his head at the idea as Dr. Zayid had given him a similar lecture before he left the hospital.

"If you don't do something about your sleep, you'll go down hill physically and mentally. You're at risk for high blood pressure and heart problems. It can be a temporary fix."

"The side effects are not worth it. Sorry. I don't want to walk around like a zombie at work, feeling groggy and slowing my response to things. I've seen people addicted to things. No, I'll just get back to exercising."

Dr. Marsmann was skeptical.

"Seriously," Nick insisted. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? There are lots of medications that don't have the kinds of side effects you're experiencing. You've tried Trazadone, but there are lots of others, Nick, just to get past the hump."

"Fine, I'll go get a prescription and I'll take those along with the freakin' Celexa," the Texan muttered.

"What's really bothering you today?" she asked and added, "I didn't say you should take medication. I'm simply suggesting it as a quick fix to try and alleviate the immediate problems with sleep and anxiety."

Breathing heavily through his nose he continued, "You know, the past 24 hours I've had two occurrences where I swear I hear him. After he went to jail, it stopped, but it started again. I can't…let...my girlfriend give me…oral sex because…they fucking did it to me at the prison."

His hands curled into fists as he continued, "But I forgot about it. I didn't even mention it when I testified because I couldn't remember until lately. Catherine came to me after I testified and asked why I didn't mention it because there was evidence. I forgot until she showed me the evidence log and… fuck!!" He clamped a hand over his face and took deep gulps to control the rising panic.

"That's normal. Blackouts are common during assaults. Your mind is protecting you from the trauma, and the reoccurrences of memories are simply a way of allowing you to remember when it thinks you're ready."

"I don't want to remember," Nick choked, his voice squeaky.

"But the fact that you are shows that your mind is ready to process it, and that is a good thing because now you can deal with it. Remember, it took months before you even started to come to me for therapy, so now you can start to heal and get on with your life. You'll never be the same person again, Nick, but you'll definitely grow stronger for it."

"Do you think I'm ready for this job?" He wanted out of the memory bank. "I mean, I want to do it. I really, really want the job."

"Do you find that your work is helpful to you? Therapeutic, so to speak?" she asked, eyeing him solemnly.

"Hell yeah!" Nick answered enthusiastically. "This is who I am."

"Then I guess you have your answer. You're a very strong person, Nick. I know you have your dark days, and that's normal given what you went through, but you work through them. I have clients who have just given up over these kinds of events, but you're not one of them. You're a survivor."

A small smile tugged at his lips and he leaned into the comfortable armchair and said, "So let's work on how to deal with these crappy nightmares and flashbacks before my colleagues start wondering if the men in white are finally coming to get me."

"They're not coming to get you," Dr. Marsmann laughed.

"Oh, I don't know. Just ask the betting pool at the lab." He laughed, "It's a matter of when they're coming, not if."

"Depends on who signs the form to have you committed. It won't be me."

"No, probably my boss, Grissom. He'd gladly sign it. Actually there'd be a lineup to have me committed."

"Well, before that happens," Dr. Marsmann said, "let's work on strategies to help you. If you insist on not using medication, Nick, then let's find alternatives to help you. It will be harder and take longer than medication, and it's not always 100 per cent successful."

"I'm up for the challenge," Nick said solemnly, "because no matter what, I'll never be healed 100 per cent, but I'd be happy with 90 per cent."

_**A/N: I did some research on the United Nations because I had started a story about Nick going off and working the UN, but then with BP leaving and Warrick's death, I'm not sure now what I want to write about in my next fic. **_

_**So I found this:**_ The United Nationals Office on Drugs and Drugs (_UNODC) is mandated to assist Member States in their struggle against illicit drugs, crime and terrorism. In the Millennium Declaration, Member States also resolved to intensify efforts to fight transnational crime in all its dimensions, to redouble the efforts to implement the commitment to counter the world drug problem and to take concerted action against international terrorism._

_**If there's character on that show who would work for the UN, it would be Nick. **_

_**I've always had a fascination with the United Nations since I could remember.**_


	23. Chapter 23

**IRREVERSIBLE**

**CHAPTER 23**

_**If I could do it all again  
I'd go back and change everything  
But time won't let me go**_

_**Time Won't Let Me Go, The Bravery**_

_**Thanks Smokey-you've been awesome..**_

Of all the lawyers Joanna Barker's killer, Ron Chevarie, had to hire, he had to hire Marjorie Wescott. His parents obviously helped him out, both being wealthy lawyers themselves.

Not that she wasn't a good lawyer, but she and Nick had crossed paths six years ago during the Tom Havilland trial when she used his errors against him on the stand: the fact that he forgot to date and sign his initials on the evidence bags.

Chevarie confessed to the killing, but was trying to use the fact that he suffered from Bipolar Disorder and was in a 'psychotic state' at the time to get off.

Nick knew lots of people suffered from Bipolar Disorder and Schizophrenia, but none of them ever went out and killed someone, so what was Chevarie's excuse? Psychotic moment? Whatever. Don't insult the people who suffer from it and yet try to make a life for themselves. As far as the Texan was concerned, poor mental health did not excuse bad behavior, not even his own.

Nick knew that lately he'd turned into an SOB at work, an SOB with Mandy (who took it all in stride, thus keeping her own apartment in spite of him asking her to move in with him), and an SOB in general, but his own recent diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder didn't excuse it. He'd become very snappy, distant, and moody, more so than he was after his underground ordeal. Although, a small part of him, his conscience, reminded him that at some point he was going to out and kill someone when his mental health was perilous.

_Hey Nicky, you had a shotgun in your truck and were headed somewhere to finish McVeigh off?_

_Yeah, but that was revenge. Chevarie is a pedophile posing as a mental health patient._

Catherine had now started to take care with the cases she handed him, concerned about triggers, but he told her to stop it and treat him simply like he was before what happened. Problem was, he wasn't the same person as before 'what happened'. He knew it and everyone else knew it.

And now he had to sit on a stand and face a lawyer whom he hated more than any lawyer in Vegas or the US for that matter.

"Mr. Stokes, are you still with us?"

Nick looked up. His fingers were in front of his face, folded almost in a prayer like fashion.

"Sorry?" He leaned over and spoke into the microphone.

"Mr. Stokes, during the investigation word is you were suffering from medical problems?" the older, blonde woman in the dark black suit said, her hair coifed into a bun.

"Objection! Relevance your honour?" Maddie Klein jumped up, her eyes furtive.

"I'll allow it. Answer the question, Mr. Stokes."

Straightening his back, Nick answered steely, "Yes, I was, but they've since been resolved."

"But your ability to investigate my client was impaired at that time, was it not?"

"No, it was not," the Texan answered, wearing a blank expression.

"You had not disclosed your condition at this point to your superiors." Her eyes narrowed.

"There wasn't anything to disclose. The test results were not in," Nick responded, feeling butterflies flitting and fluttering around within him.

"Can you tell us what your diagnosis was, Mr. Stokes?"

"Objection!"

"Overruled."

Nick's eyebrows were raised and finally he answered, "Hepatitis B."

The courtroom was hushed. Nick looked over at Joanna Barker's parents. Her mother, a small redheaded woman, stared at him with pity, but yet a gleam of reverence was showing through. She smiled proudly at Nick and mouthed, "You're doing great!"

Nick felt a small bit of bravado rise in him as he said, "My condition had nothing to do with the case. I was driven to find her killer no matter what it took."

"So you felt it was okay to work with a life-threatening condition? You are very driven, Mr. Stokes, driven enough to enter several crime scenes without proper police escort."

"Objection!" Maddie called out, exasperated.

"Overruled. Just answer the question."

"Um…I'm not sure what she's referring to." Nick played dumb, hoping it would work.

"I mean three years ago you were kidnapped from a crime scene. Were you not?"

"Yes, I was, and I was found."

"All cases stopped for you that night."

"Yes, they did," Nick agreed.

"And then not long ago you found yourself locked in a prison library while investigating a murder whereupon you entered the facility without proper supervision."

A hush fell over the courtroom as Nick swallowed hard and answered shakily, "Yes, I did, but there was a strike..."

"You're known to be impulsive, Mr. Stokes. It's funny, because around the time that you were locked in the library during a near prison riot, word is there was a John Doe who works for the LVPD sexually assaulted in the prison. Are you aware of that or do you know about that?"

Westcroft smirked at him, watching as Nick felt the blood drain from his head. He could barely hear Klein yelling, "Objection, Your Honour! My God, how long are you going to allow this?"

Warrick was leaning over the table furiously talking with the assistant who told him to calm down.

Nick stared down at the ring on his finger and began to twist it nervously.

"_We doin' the judge's boy!"_

_Hot tears streaming down his cheeks._

_Pain…indescribable._

Nick picked up the glass of water and sipped it, feeling rivulets of sweat swimming down his back. His breathing became shallower. He looked up and scanned the courtroom and his eyes settled on Warrick who sat there with his teeth gritted, jaw clenched, but he mouthed the words, "Maintain composure, man!!"

The Texan rubbed his forehead and listened to the courtroom as whispers and quizzical looks took hold of the room before the judge slammed his gavel causing Nick to jump in his seat as the sound pierced him.

"Your Honour, the witness grabbed my client in a fit of rage. His impulsiveness affects the case!" the defense lawyer yelled.

Nick took gulps of breath, but it wasn't enough.

"Mr. Stokes," the judge asked, "do you need to stop?"

Nick shook his head, feeling sweat trickle down the side of his face, one drop sliding into his eye, and he said into the microphone, "I'm fine."

Turning his attention to the blistering defense lawyer, the judge said, "Ms. Wescott, if you need to make a case then rephrase the question."

"Okay, I'll rephrase then. Mr. Stokes, there've been some rumblings about an attack against a CSI in the prison approximately 11 months ago…around the time you were supposedly locked in the library."

Nick paled and looked towards Warrick who leaned over and whispered to Klein who jumped up and yelled, "Objection! Relevance!"

"Ms. Wescott!" the judge said, "I won't ask again. Rephrase that question once more or I'll have you removed from this courtroom."

"I guess I'm asking if that CSI had been you, do you feel these traumatic events would have affected your mental health in the way that you conducted your case against Mr. Chevarie?"

"No, they wouldn't," Nick answered and stared hatefully at the lawyer.

She nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Stokes."

Nick stood up, his legs feeling rubbery, and left the witness stand as the judge thankfully said, "Court is adjourned for the day." He bypassed Klein, who tried to apologize, and raced to the washroom, slamming the door on the stall and vomiting his morning breakfast into the toilet before sliding down and sitting against the door trying to regain his momentum before going back out.

"Nick." He heard a knock on the door and sat up. Maddie Klein?

Slowly he stood up and opened the door. "Aren't you in the wrong washroom?"

"No, you are. You're in the ladies room."

Nick stared around and said, "Oh fuck!"

She giggled and patted his shoulder. "Oh that's okay. I've gone into the men's room here a few times…usually chasing defense lawyers down, but hey." She linked an arm through his and said, "Let's get you out of here before you're charged with public mischief."

"Yeah, that's all I need."

As they left the room, Maddie turned to him. "I'm gonna get her if it's the last thing I do."

"How are these rumours getting around?"

"I spoke with her, and unfortunately it's the prison rumour mill that's spreading it. I wish there was something I could do, Nick. I can speak to the judge, but I can't close all the gaps, much as I want to."

"Yeah, I know," Nick answered, defeated. "I guess I'll just keep denying, denying, and denying the rumours."

"We all have rumours to deal with in this profession. Stuff we've never been able to live down," Klein said.

"Yeah, you're still on my case about the hooker eight years ago."

"Well, I was wrong about that. I'm sorry. You were just a kid." Klein smiled and then gave him a quick hug. "Take it easy."

"Look, I'm tired. Can Warrick take over tomorrow?"

"Done. He already stepped up to the plate. You've got a good friend in him, Nick." Maddie kissed his cheek and smiled. "I've been wanting to do that for years." She winked at him and sauntered off. "Next to Grissom, you're of my favorite CSI."

Nick laughed, "Okay, I'm glad to hear that."

Warrick waited for him and patted him on the shoulder. "You did great up there, Nick," he said.

"Warrick," Nick gritted his teeth, "this fucking thing is gonna haunt me forever!"

"Right now it's only rumours, Nick. Just rumours. Ignore them."

"It's easy to say when it's not you." Nick placed his hands on his hips as his jaw clenched.

"I know, I know. Look, let's go for a beer."

Nick turned to his friend and smiled. "That sounds good."

XxXXxx

"How ya doin', boys?" Linda, the Irish, mid 50ish, blonde, curvy, owner/bartender and sometimes waitress greeted them.

"Great Linda!" Nick answered. "How's the herd?"

Linda's herd consisted of three Border Collies, one Malamute, and three Heinz 57s. Linda ran a dog therapy and rehabilitation centre with her husband, plus she owned The Dogs of Eads pub.

"Great! How's the dog trainer I recommended?"

"Oh he's great. I like him. Definitely a dog whispering type," Nick answered. "Got a bit of da Irish accent goin' for him, lassie!"

"Yeah, nice try, Bono!" Warrick snickered. "First Africa, now you're fakin' an Irish accent. Just don't start dancing around with a white flag singing Sunday Bloody Sunday."

"No, it's Sunday, Blooooody Sunday, but I'm not going to Africa now and I'll tell you why later." He looked up at Linda. "Thanks for the info on the trainer. He's really good."

"Yeah, Sean's a good one. Hey maybe when you're done with Zack you can take our trainer's training course and join our crew, Nicky?"

"Oh, maybe." Nick smiled at Warrick. "I'd have to see about that. Let me try and succeed with Zack first." He looked at the menu and said, "Think I'll have the fish and chips tonight, but I'll start with a Guiness."

"Goin Irish tonight, Nick?" Linda laughed as she took his menu.

"Hey, we're all Irish. Right, Linda? Even Warrick here is Irish."

"Yep, born and bred," Warrick chuckled, telling Linda he'd have the same thing as Nick.

"Yeah, that explains them green eyes of yours," Linda said. "I'll get the beer first."

As she walked away, Warrick leaned over. "What do you mean you're not going? They offered you the job."

"I'm not going right now," Nick said. "I'm going next year. I talked it over with my therapist, and I'm not ready, Warrick. I'm barely hanging onto this job, so how the hell am I gonna manage in another country? At least in this country, I've got my friends, my family, and Mandy."

"I think it would have been a great experience for you, man," Warrick said. "Hey you know what? Next year I'll go with you."

"Oh, Grissom will be pleased to lose two CSIs at once."

"Ah, he'll manage," Warrick said. "I've got so much vacation and overtime built up. I'll volunteer over there."

"That's a plan then." Nick nodded, "We'll do it. In the meantime though, I'm going to learn how to speak French. It's one of the official languages of the UN."

"Whoa! Mandy will be impressed."

"Yeah, I can actually say more than voulez vous coucher avec moi, but she seems to be okay with that."

"With that big smile she's walking around the lab with, I'd say she's more than okay these days. That girl is walking around humming and singing all the time," Warrick chuckled.

"Hey! She puts up with a lot of my crap, so I gotta do something to keep her happy," Nick smirked.

"I'm sure that's a hardship for you."

Nick snorted, "Yeah, hardship all right." Then the Texan's face became somber. "What a day!"

"I know," Warrick agreed.

"Warrick, I can't work like this. It doesn't matter how many people Klein threatens to fire. This is gonna follow me for the rest of my career here."

"What are you saying?" Warrick asked. "You gonna give up and quit?"

"I don't know what to do," Nick said. "All I know is that I'm never going to get past this. This is gonna haunt me forever. I mean I'm still not sleeping well at night. I'm still having flashbacks. Fuck, you have to cover up my mistakes for eons. That's not fair to you."

"Hey, I got your back!" Warrick said. "You'd do the same."

"You know what, Warrick?" Nick asked his jaw clenched, "It's a non-discussion because you wouldn't let something like that happen to you."

"You were sick that day, man. You were overpowered. They had a gun to your head. Who knows what I'd do if it were me," Warrick insisted. "And you know what? I don't wanna hear any of this kind of talk out of your mouth, okay? It was not your fault."

"How come you got all weird with me after?" Nick asked.

"'Cause I was a jerk and I was too fucking scared I'd say the wrong thing to you," Warrick said.

They shushed as Linda brought them their beer.

"This one's on me!" Warrick said to Nick and passed a few bucks over to her.

After she took the money, Nick shrugged, "I guess I probably would have acted the same way. It's not an easy thing for guys to deal with."

"You know, I keep thinking had I been there…," Warrick shook his head. "Well, you know what Bruce Willis's character did to the rapist with that sword?"

"Yeah?"

"That would have been me. That McVeigh would have been sliced in half." Warrick's face contorted with rage. "I would have killed him."

"I tried."

"Sanders wound up doing it though, and he feels awful about it, but he had to do it," Warrick said.

"He's having nightmares too," Nick said, "but not about killing McVeigh; about what he saw McVeigh doing to me."

"I know. He's still seeing the department shrink. He's going to be okay though," Warrick said. "We're cool, right?"

"Well, there's one further issue I have, and that's Mandy. She overheard what you said about my dating her a while back."

"Oh, man I'm sorry." Warrick looked sheepish.

"Look, I'm not sure if you think that she's not all that...whatever 'that' is supposed to be, but I gotta tell you that I'm really happy with her. I really love this girl, and you need to stop being so hung up on my being with a certain kind of woman."

"Look, I don't know what I was thinking, but hey man, she sure brings a smile to your face, so hey, I was wrong and I'm sorry and I'll apologize to her. Hell, I'll treat you two to dinner, okay?"

Nick smiled, "Yeah that sounds good."

"And look, about this stuff getting around about what happened," Warrick leaned over, "if I hear of anyone saying anything, they'll be dealing with me, okay?"

"Warrick, don't get in trouble on my behalf," Nick insisted.

"Don't worry about that," Warrick said. "Trust me, that rumour will be quashed."

"No, it won't. It will always be there, Warrick. I just have to learn to live with it." Nick sighed and then smiled as a heaping plate of battered fish, tartar sauce, and fries were set before them.

"Well, like I said, I've always got your back, no matter what!" Warrick told him as he grabbed the bottle of ketchup.

"Same here, bro! Same here!" Nick smiled as he spread the tartar sauce on the fish, wondering if he should tell Warrick about the decision he made while sitting on the floor in the ladies room.

He'd talk it over with Mandy and hope she would be okay with it.

xxXXxx

When Nick got home he found a note from Mandy telling him she'd be working a double and had left lasagna in the fridge.

He managed to get Zack to the end of the street and back without the dog freaking out and either peeing everywhere (his jeans included) or yelping so loudly that passersby would look at Nick and wonder what in God's name that man was doing to his dog.

"Good boy!" Nick praised the nervous dog and handed him a cookie.

The play dates with Hank were helping out extraordinarily, once Zack allowed Hank to be the dominant dog. _"Kind of like my relationship with you, Grissom," Nick said._

"_Yeah, but you haven't shown me your neck yet so I can decide whether to let you live or rip you to shreds," Grissom retorted with a laugh._

"_Because I already know it would be the latter of the two," Nick laughed back wryly._

Project Zack proved to be useful in many ways as Nick finally managed to understand Grissom's bug like personality better. Grissom, in turn, helped Nick by agreeing to take the T.S. Elliott anthology. In spite of the entomologist's protests that the poem in question had nothing to do with the attack, he respected Nick's wishes to try and rid all things from his life that brought him back to that day.

As for Zack, he was doing much better and wasn't startled as easily by loud noises, but there were exceptions.

As they walked up to his house, a truck roared by. The dog yelped and raced around and around Nick's leg with the extendaleash wrapping him up.

"Awww fuck!" Nick snapped, and tried to unwrap himself only to land face first on the concrete. He yelped in pain causing his dog to dash forward practically dragging the beleaguered Texan along the sidewalk before coming to a stop, realizing that a 50 pound dog was no match for a 178 pound man.

Zack walked over and sniffed him before issuing comforting licks, immediately ceasing any anger Nick felt towards the hapless creature. He took stock of the damage and saw a small tear in the knee of his jeans and some scrapes on his elbow, but shrugged them off and started to hobble on.

"Been drinking again, Nick?" Mrs Matthews called out from her stoop, watching Nick untangle himself.

Nick stood up, brushed himself off, and answered blithely, "Every chance I get." He cast a glare at her.

"AA will be at your door," she continued while puffing on a cigarette.

"Good! Send the men in white while you're at it," Nick shot back while walking up his steps with nervous dog in tow.

"I've already tried. They said you're at the top of their list," Mrs. Matthews retorted. "Vegas is a busy town for these guys."

"Yeah! Well maybe I'll save them the trouble and check myself in."

Mrs. Matthews cackled, "Well! That's the best idea I've heard out of your mouth in a long time."

"Yeah, I've got a lot of ideas, Mrs. Matthews, and some of them are actually legal!" Nick called back.

"Just keep your nose clean, Nick!"

"My mom used to say that to me when I was six years old after she handed me a tissue and slapped my hands," Nick called back and went into the house hearing Mrs. Matthews laughing behind him.

XxXXxx

"Why didn't you take the job with the UN, Nick?"

Nick slumped in a chair in front of Grissom's desk dispassionately trying to come up with an answer that sounded reasonable, and the only words that seemed to work were, "I'm not ready."

Grissom leaned back into his chair and folded his hands on the desk, weighing the answer before responding, "That's a good reason."

Sitting up and feeling tired muscles stretch, Nick handed Grissom a _Request for Leave of Absence_ with the words, "I'm sorry. I tried, but I can't do this anymore, Grissom. I'm not, not…" He paused. "After what happened on the stand, I really need to get away for a bit. I was hoping the job would be the answer, but the truth of the matter is I'm fucking up big time on that one. I can't focus. I can't finish my tasks. I'm forgetting to write down signatures and dates on the evidence bags; I'm...fucked up, man."

Leanign back into the chair and resting his hand against his fist, Nick continued, "I still can't for the life of me go near cases that involve rape."

"I know," Grissom said, "and that's fine, Nick. Catherine and I discussed it and we're fine with that."

"It shouldn't have to be that way, Grissom," Nick insisted. "I should just grab a case and not allow it to trigger me."

"We all have cases that trigger us, Nick," the older man said sympathetically.

"And then this case with Ron Chevarie and what happened on the stand."

"Warrick has no trouble filling in there, Nick."

"Well, now I'm wondering who all fucking knows." Nick looked up at Grissom, his eyes black with paranoia. "I can't work like this anymore, at least not right now, and that's why I'm asking for this leave. I'm not running away."

"I know you're not, Nick, but trauma does a lot of horrible things to the psyche, and we all get to a place where we have to just allow ourselves to heal. I don't think you can heal with all the reminders. Remember, you were gone for almost two months after your kidnapping."

"Yeah, I spent it in Texas," Nick recalled, "with my mom hovering over me."

"Moms do that." Grissom smiled and continued, "This time, you couldn't accept what happened to you…right up to the end when we confronted you with it."

"Yeah, you were saying the words to me and I just…" Nick cleared his throat. "I can't work like this. I can't focus. I can't concentrate, and I can't expect my team to pick up my slack. I'm seriously fucked up."

"No," Grissom said, "you're not 'fucked' up, but there are obviously problems. You know, traumatic events in our lives can have serious detrimental effects on a person's brain functions, Nick."

"No shit, Sherlock!" Nick replied, folding his arms and surveying the room.

"It puts a strain on the hippocampus and can hinder minor functions that allow you to concentrate."

"So my brain is fried. That figures," Nick grumbled.

"No, just overloaded on cortisol."

"Yeah, Doc Robbins gave me the cortisol lecture after I was buried alive."

"Then maybe it's time to heed it," Grissom said and added, "I know you told me you didn't want to take the medication your doctor prescribed, but let me ask you this; if someone close to you…say Warrick…had diabetes or a heart condition, would you tell him not to take his medication?"

"No!" Nick balked. "Never. It's for their health."

"Then why is taking medication for PTSD so bad? In this case, is the brain any different than any other organ, Nick?"

"No, I just worry about side effects and I feel like I've given up."

"Not taking medication is giving up because not treated, you might get worse," Grissom said and then looked at the form and signed it. "And I think time off is probably a good idea as it does take six weeks for most medications to start working."

Nick took the form from him and smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Grissom."

"So where will you be going?"

Nick blew out a breath and pondered, "Well, my parents have a ranch. There's a cottage just off of it that some of our handlers use, but it's empty so I'm going to stay there for a while."

Grissom nodded and then pulled out another form. "It's interesting. I got a similar request from Mandy Webster. Hers is for about four weeks which is her full maximum vacation time that she's allowed, but interestingly she added two weeks on here as this is the amount of overtime she's banked up…so six weeks."

Nick ducked his head, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, that's not gonna cause any problems, will it?"

"No, we're okay here," Grissom answered. "Just thought it was a coincidence."

"It's a family trip...me, her, George, Figaro, and Zack. Road trip."

"Figaro?" Grissom asked. "Who's Figaro?"

"I guess I forgot to tell you about Figaro." Nick grinned. "He's a 14 year old Balinese cat."

"Balinese?"

"Long-haired Siamese," Nick laughed. "Someone dumped him at the humane society and I heard this really strange meow…almost like a sheep. So I checked it out and there he was. The manager was upset because they didn't think anyone would adopt him. No one wants to take on a 14 year old blind cat"

"And what does George think of him?"

"Oh Figaro sleeps most of the time, so George is fine with it. George still likes to sneak over to Mrs. Matthews and play with her cats. He's cool as long as retains top cat status."

"So are we turning into the cat guy?"

"Oh, hell no. I'm done. I've got one dog, two cats, and a girlfriend who is practically living there. That's enough of a zoo for me," Nick said.

"Better than being alone, Nick," Grissom pointed out.

"Yeah, it is."

"I guess this is a good thing for you, Nick."

"It was a hard decision, but I decided to just to take a breather for a bit."

"Well, Nick, I think right now life is too short to not do the things we want to do."

XxXXxx

Mandy knew one rule through trial and error. Never, ever walk up behind Nick. To do so would have him freak out on you and leave you wondering if you'd touched a savage lion.

He had text messaged her to come meet him on the rooftop of the LVPD where he liked to go and get away from it all.

_Through Warrick, she'd heard about his tough day at court. She immediately asked someone to cover for her and went home to find him sleeping on the couch with George and Figaro and Zack at his feet._

_She woke him up with a kiss on the forehead, and once the sleep was out of his eyes he asked her to come with him on a trip for six weeks. _

_Mandy said yes and didn't care how she'd get the time off, because hell, she wanted to be with him through this time and wasn't about to lose him a third time. _

Slowly, she walked around the lawn chair and gave a little wave to catch his attention.

Nick turned off his iPod.

"So what's on your menu today?"

"U2," Nick answered.

"Feeling like going out and feeding the homeless? Or saving the planet?" Mandy walked up and crouched down before him.

"No, not really," Nick said. "Maybe tomorrow I'll go find Chester and buy him a McDonald's meal."

"Didn't you do that last week?"

"Yeah…so? Then I'll go plant a few trees."

"In Nevada?"

"No, maybe I'll drive up to Canada or something and planet some trees in Algonquin."

"I'll come with you."

"Sure," Nick said, "you can pack some dolphin free tuna sandwiches."

"Or veggie sandwiches."

"Just be careful if it's chicken. With my luck I'd get listerosis," Nick grumbled.

"I would nurse you back to health," Mandy flirted. "I'd buy one of those little white nurse's outfits and dress up just for you."

Nick smiled wistfully. "I'd like that."

She leaned over and whispered, "And I won't wear underwear."

"I'll definitely like that," the Texan responded with a gleam in his eyes.

"So Grissom signed my vacation request." She smiled excitedly. "I'm really looking forward to this."

"Yeah," Nick answered, "you wanna spend 24/7 with me? I don't know, Mandy, you're getting in way over your head on this one. I'm not that much fun."

"Oh please," Mandy said. "You're a riot, Alice!"

"I'm supposed to say that to you."

"Whatever."

"You know, of all the guys in Vegas you had to get stuck with me," Nick chuckled, stroking her face.

"Well, Bogey, it's a blast being with you."

"Really? What is it about me that's so appealing? My so-called good looks?"

"Well that's a start."

"Oh please!" Nick groaned. "Warrick told me the other day when I was bugging Grissom to do solos years ago that I looked like one of those stray dogs in the Pedigree commercials." The Texan then looked at Mandy with big, brown, sad eyes. "My name is Nick Stokes and I'm a good CSI and I just wanna fly solo on a DB."

"Yeah, I get that look too, except in your case it would be 'and I just wanna get laid'." Mandy eyeballed him and shook her head.

"Works everytime!" Nick grinned and chuckled.

"Anyway, back to why I love you." Mandy leaned on the arm of the lawn chair and bit her lip while thinking. "Well, let's see. Your heart. It's huge...bigger than Texas in my opinion. How many other people would spend hundreds of dollars on a stray dog getting its teeth fixed up and training and acupuncture? And then there's your cat, George, who's broken every trophy you own and you haven't once yelled at him. Then there's taking that ancient cat home. Then there are the times you sit with Mrs. Matthews talking to her about Obama."

"He's gotta win." Nick imitated the old lady, "That McCain is older than Jesus."

Mandy laughed, "Then there's me. You leave little notes in my locker; you leave little gifts on my side of the bed; you come over and clean up my apartment, even though you take stuff out of there and put it in yours as a hint."

His eyes twinkled as Nick said, "Oh. You've figured that one out."

"You told Hodges to hand over the little game piece he made of me because you don't like the idea of anyone with their hands on anything remotely resembling me."

"I actually gave him 50 for that piece. Jerk!" Nick grumbled. "Besides, when you're not around I gotta fantasize about something. Hodges threw the blow up doll in the garbage."

"You have roses sent to the lab even though you sign them Dirk Diggler, Tom Cruise, or George, Zack, or Figaro, and draw little paw prints on the card." Mandy rolled her eyes.

"Those damn animals have been ordering stuff on my credit card again," Nick feigned disgust. "That explains the pool table in the guest room. It was probably George's idea."

"No, no, don't be blaming George. It's you and I love it!" Mandy said. "I'm the envy of the lab. I kind of like that…and of course the awesome sex."

"Yeah, it's already been 12 hours," Nick whined.

"Oh lord, you'll have to wait longer, dude, I'm pulling a double." Mandy looked disappointed when she said that.

Nick stood up and took her hand. "Follow me."

_**A/N: Do you guys want more smut? Don't want to overload yah! I have a pretty hot, yet hilarious scene cooking up?**_

_**A/N: Figaro is a real cat that I took care of.**_

_**A/N You guys have been so awesome. You've kept my spirits all summer as I've grieved the loss of Warrick and soon Grissom.**_

_**So, let me ask you this. Shall I continue on with this story till the premier? I'm not sure how much left there is to tell? Or do you want a Mandy/Nick smut fest story that I'm thinking about. Something a little more cheerful**_


	24. Chapter 24

**IRREVERISBLE**

**CHAPTER 24**

_Give me one last chance_

_And I'm gonna make you sing_

_Give me half a chance_

_To ride on the waves that you bring_

_-Even Better Than the Real Thing, U2_

**_WARNING: Smut ahead...lyrics give a hint...and uh...feel free to cross out Mandy and insert your name_.**

**_If you get a chance, please head over to the CSI Fan Fic Awards and vote for this story. I'm up against some pretty stiff competition as there are some amazing, fan fic writers out there - __/CSIFFA/2008CSIFFA-WIPList.htm_. I'm listed under Vegas-Angst and Vegas-WIP-Work in Progress.**

Wendy had asked a very fair question, "Why do you put up with it?!"

And she had asked not out of criticism towards Nick but of concern for her friend.

In the weeks following McVeigh's death, Mandy noticed small but notable changes in Nick. Even after the prison attack, there was some semblance of the old Nick Stokes in him, but this recent trauma seemed to have vanished that nubile man for good and replaced him with someone she struggled to recognize.

There was a harder edge to him, a bitterness, and an anger that displayed itself unexpectedly and unintentionally. When it was unintentional, then the old Nick Stokes would appear, humbling and apologetic, but almost in a flash he was gone again.

Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde? It was hard to tell from shift to shift.

Mandy was finding sleep an elusive friend these days. His nightmares awakened her, or even worse she would awaken to find him sitting by the door with his shotgun whereupon she had the arduous task of convincing him that he was safe and McVeigh and Smith were dead and were not going to come after him again and to put the gun away. Once, she tried to hide it only to have it lead to a big blow out.

And there was the sleep paralysis where she'd wake up to hearing him struggle for air and have to gently touch his arm to bring him around.

Unbeknownst to Nick, Mandy had started doing her own bit of research online in the lab on sexual assaults on males and discovered his behaviour was quite normal. Further reading revealed information on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and he certainly was showing signs of it, which thankfully he acknowledged. And he was in therapy.

There was little she could do for him other than be his friend, lover, confidant, and give him a proverbial kick in the ass if the pity party spiraled out of control. It was a daunting task, but she could do it.

As far as Mandy was concerned, he was doing very well given the circumstances, so she put up with it, but at the same time she kept up a boundary in the form of her own apartment as she warned him she would not be his emotional punching bag.

His erratic behaviour had not gone unnoticed in the lab. Nick had told her the complaints against him were piling up, but he didn't care and everyone could drop dead or go to hell.

"Oh my god!" Wendy exclaimed one day during lunch break, "I don't know how or why you put up with him. Is this what you signed up for?" She was indignant, as Nick had reamed her out over some DNA that didn't match a suspect he had the goods on. It was certainly not Wendy's fault, but she got the blame for it anyway.

Mandy shrugged indifferently and started packing up her meal with the excuse of having to get back to work. She had heard this talk from her fellow lab rats before, and her mind was not going to change.

"I have to agree," piped up Hodges. "I mean, what's in it for you?"

Staring pointedly at Hodges, Mandy leaned over with a lewd smile and answered, "Awesome Sex!!" She stood up abruptly and left the room, leaving jaws scraping, gasps, and giggles behind her and Greg Sanders moaning about TMI, TMI.

Later, Nick would give her hell for that remark, but recanted when she explained the context it was given in and smiled in amusement when she described Hodges shocked face.

It was a good question though? Why did she put up with it?

She had given him a brief reason as to why, but there was a lot more that she couldn't find the words to express. And as for Wendy and the rest of the lab rats, well they didn't see the Nick Stokes she knew.

They didn't see the Nick Stokes who told George that the laws of physics prevented him from capturing his tail and keeping it. Or the man who was gently easing a frightened Zack back into the world using time, patience, and love; one broken soul nurturing the other…each seeming to have a deep understanding of the other's needs to heal. Zack clung to Nick like a Virginia Creeper, and while the dog trainer cautioned the Texan to try and break him of such habits, Nick took his time knowing the creature needed for once in its sad existence to be understood.

Mandy's trite answer to her fellow lab techs left them to wonder what she meant, but she wasn't referring to the physical part of their sex (although there were days when she stumbled into work after a session with her body still tingling). No, the sex didn't just come in the form of the actual act, but also the loving way he held her during their coupling, as if she might disappear on him if he let go. Not to mention the endearing whispers, the kisses, the touches, and the thoughtfulness of ensuring she was enjoying herself and in return she returned his passion with her own. Give and take.

Plus, she loved how she was with him. She pushed boundaries and took risks she never would have with any other man. No part of her had been left untouched, uncaressed, or unkissed. He still had some boundaries though, and she respected them, but each time he took more risks.

So yeah, he had been jerk, but he also acknowledged it and was working on it and she cut him some slack for it. Why? He was a keeper, that's why!

"Are you sure it's safe here?" Mandy asked.

Dust particles floated around the broom closet - more of a supply room actually - that was forgotten about when LVPD outsourced their cleaning team. There was a tiny metal table, a plastic chair with a bent leg, and some old mops and brooms hanging from hooks on the wall.

Nick kicked the door closed and whipped Mandy around to face him, devouring her with a smoldering kiss as he slowly backed her towards the table.

She broke the kiss, much to his annoyance. "I don't know if we should be doing this."

"Oh spare me!" Nick said, his arms around her waist, holding her so tightly he could feel the heat of her body through his jeans, while she felt his erection teasing her thighs through the wool skirt. Mandy's resolve was weakening, and she cursed her body for responding to his foreplay. But dammit, he had such a hold over her she'd have sex with him in the middle of the lab if he wanted it.

Coming up for air her he told her, "Remember when you told me when I was ready you'd give me...you know...the...?"

Mandy brightened with delight at finally, finally being able to go down on him. Damn, she'd been waiting for this. "You might collapse when I'm done with you."

"No, I won't!" he teased.

"Oh yes, you will." She brought his hands to his fly and zipper so he could undo them for her, for he was still not ready for her to do it.

She pulled her lab coat off and made a pillow for herself before kneeling down in front of him whispering, "Just say stop and I will."

"Yep," he answered in a tight and not so sure voice.

Gently and seductively, she slid down his boxer briefs and took his sex into her hands caressing it. It was semi-hard. She gently took him into her mouth, starting with the head and sucking gently on it while with her hand she slid around and caressed him; his stuttering breaths were music to her ears.

His hands were trailing softly through her hair as she licked away gently around the shaft, then up and down the vein before taking him in fully and deeply.

"Jesus, I didn't know you could do that!" he exclaimed, his voice rising, sounding like pleading.

_There are lots of things you still don't know about me, Mandy thought._

She continued her movements on him, relishing the effect she had him as he grew harder with each suck, and felt a sense of power over him, but it wouldn't last as he pulled away and gasped, his voice strained, "Okay, stop...that's it."

"I'm sorry." She looked up at him with such guilt that he immediately had to correct the situation.

He lifted her up by the shoulders. "No, dammit...I just...wanna be inside you when I fucking well come." He picked her up as if she was a feather and quickly plopped her onto the table, gently pushing her onto her back and roughly pulling her nylons and black bikinis down and off, tossing them to the side. He spread her legs apart and propped her feet on the edge of the table.

His hands roamed over her. With three fingers he dove inside her folds and rubbed his thumb on her clit while his fingers probed into her deeply. She propped herself up on her elbows and rolled her fingers into fists, calling his name.

"I'm here, babe!" He managed to undo her blouse and unclasp her bra, then started to rub her nipples with his thumbs. First one, then the other, while watching her chest rise and fall rapidly.

Mandy groaned as two parts of her were at war: one was telling her that having sex in the lab was a bad idea and could have serious repercussion while the winning side screamed to shut up and take a chance.

His fingers were soon replaced with his tongue, licking her folds, teasing her.

"Jesus!" she gasped as her head lolled back. "You're so gonna get us fired, Nick!" Her voice shook as she arched her neck back, holding onto the not so strong metal table and relished in the sweet, elicit sensations shooting through her body from the top of her head to the tip of her now curling toes.

"Naw...nobody ever comes down here," he muttered as he finished with a kiss on her belly as he stood up and told her to sit up.

She awkwardly did, still reeling from the short but sweet orgasm, then wrapped her arms around his shoulders and whispered, "This leather jacket...stays on."

"It's gonna get kind of hot." He pulled her closer to the edge of the table, his broad, callused hands tracing the contours of her ass.

"If I can agree to fuck in the lab broom closet, then you can agree to keep the jacket on, dude!"

"Copy that!" he answered as he guided his erection around the edge of her sex, teasing and tormenting.

She groaned, "Stop teasing me, dude, or when you're inside me I'll clamp down hard and won't let go."

Nick wrestled and pinned down the logical part that seemed to always lose out to the impulsive part that was saying life was too short to not live out fantasies. His hands gripped her ass as she grabbed onto his shoulders. Feeling herself hoisted up, she slid down onto his rock hard erection, her legs around his waist, and held on for the ride of her life.

Biting her lip, Mandy resolved to not make any noises, but the frantic, upward thrusting was destroying all will and soon she was moaning his name into his leather jacket, the smell combining with cologne and sweat, causing an erotic moment like she had never had. It was an elixir, and to stop herself from vocalizing her pleasure she sucked his bottom lip and then peppered his jaw line with soft kisses and moved back down to his jacket, burying her face into it.

He was so deep inside her that the spot that all women hoped and prayed would get nailed was repeatedly assaulted, and before long Mandy knew it was hopeless to stay quiet. He was fucking her frantically, grunting with each thrust.

"God, I love you!" he groaned, panting heavily and stopping to regain his balance or else he'd fall flat on his back and then they'd have to explain to everyone why he was found half naked in the broom closet out cold. God, she felt so good, soaking wet - this was one hell of a fantasy playing out, and who gave a rat's ass who found them anyway? This was one for the memory book for when he was 99 and half years old, and hopefully she'd be there with him sharing this memory.

However, his legs were starting to give way, and he told her he'd have to set her back on the table where she locked her legs behind him while he pummeled her urgently. Mandy let out a little whimper as she leaned back onto the table before grasping his coat and holding on.

"And I love you, dude!" She looked into his lust-filled eyes. She could barely see in the dim light, but she pressed her forehead into his, inhaling his hot breath and capturing his lips again as a buildup deep within her began. She prayed that she could try to contain her pleasure, for this one was a biggie.

She buried her face into his jacket again as her body stiffened around him, almost like a mannequin, and whimpered as the orgasm of all orgasms hit her like a brick, so intense that the dam in the pit of her stomach crumbled as fluids released from her like Niagara Falls. His own soon joined her as they held each other so tightly they could barely breathe.

As she shook, she heard him whisper to her that she did really good, really good, and he asked in a breathy voice, "Is this better than any fantasy you've ever had?"

"Even better than the real thing."

Her muscles soon relaxed as she lifted her head up from his jacket and looked at him, swallowing to try to moisten her throat, and asked, "And this is why you text messaged me?"

"Life's too short to fight off fantasies." He licked his lips and enveloped her with a feathery kiss, holding her tight.

She laid her head against his chest again, listening to his heart racing like the Tasmanian Devil. Dammit, she wished she didn't have to pull a double. She wished they could just go home and spend an entire day in bed or in his tub eating strawberries or hell, they could check into a no-tell motel and fuck until they were blue in the face.

Nick knew this was a pretty risky act to engage in at work. He knew his parents would never approve, particularly his dad who always gave him the 'work was work and play was play and neither the two shall meet' speech. But hell, he'd never dated anyone at work in his life, and how the hell were you supposed to work around someone who drove you insane with desire and when the job stressed you and triggered unwanted memories and flashbacks and release was hours and hours away?

The Texan had been listening to U2's _Even Better than the Real Thing_ this morning, remembering when he and some buddies attended the _Zoo TV_ tour when he was in college. This was _his_ song for Mandy. She wasn't just the real thing; she was even better than the real thing.

Had he told her? Not yet. He would.

A small part of his conscience was asking this question: was he hoping to get caught to help stymie the rumours about his attack in prison and put off any rumours about his sexuality? Guilt shot its ugly head out from under his super dance of a libido and spurred his conscience to ask the hard questions.

Mandy kissed him lightly on the lips. Through the dim light he could see her hair was frizzed from the friction, her glasses were skewed, and her face was flushed and clammy.

"You want to know more reasons why I love you?" she asked, her voice still mingling with gasps.

"Why?" he asked huskily.

"I love you because I've loved you for eight years. When you're around it's like sunshine has come into the dark friggin' lab."

Nick grinned as she continued, "And that smile of yours. Well, if we could bottle it we'd have a cure for global warming." Mandy brought her hand up and traced his laugh lines. "And those eyes are so full of kindness and warmth. When you look at me like you are right now, my soul just sings and dance."

For a second Nick felt somewhat guilty about the question about being caught, but hell even if they were (which they weren't…he was confident of that), she was worth it. She was worth everything. Yeah, God had turned him into the modern Job, but like the down-trodden man he was being rewarded for his pain. With her.

"Know why I love you, Dandy Mandy?" he asked her. "You're the most generous, loving, kind person I've ever met. Not to mention you're hot! You know what I noticed about you when we made out all those months ago?"

"My ass?"

"Well, I've been checking your ass out for years. Kind of hard to do under those drab lab coats. No, your mouth."

"What about it?" Mandy asked demurely.

"It's luscious! Your eyes…two words – sultry and seductive!"

"I like that." The lab tech's grin could be seen through the light.

"You're a luscious, scrumptious babe with a heart of gold and temper to boot," he drawled, his accent thick.

"All the better to keep your sexy Texan ass - which I myself have been checking out for years - in line."

"You were checking out my ass?!" Nick faked shock.

She leaned around and squeezed the still bare cheeks and nodded playfully. "The lab ladies and I did. I mean, we had a running bet for years about whether you wore boxers or briefs."

"Oh, did you now?" Nick asked as he reluctantly let go of her and bent down to pull up his pants. "And did you win the bet?"

"Oh no, we settled that before we started dating. Remember that Lady Heather case where her daughter was murdered? You were wearing these brown pants and bent down to pick up a box of evidence and we all caught a glance of your boxers. Made our day, I'll tell you!" Mandy gleamed as she pulled up her panties and her nylons.

Nick's eyes widened. "Oh geeze, well better than plumber butt! I'm surprised no one started the old 'I see London, I see France, I see Nicky's underpants'."

"We were so hoping for plumber butt instead."

"Sorry, it ain't happening, besides my ass is for your eyes only."

"Yeah, and I love every bit of it, not to mention the well endowed part of your anatomy that keeps me going...everytime." Mandy was buttoning up her top, eyes on him, and smiling while he fiddled with zippers, buttons, and finally the belt.

They kissed one more, whispering to each other plans for when her shift ended and for when they headed off on their trip. Then they opened the door…

…to find Ecklie and Grissom standing over by Grissom's car talking. The two supervisors gaped at the sight before them...one disheveled CSI with his fly partly undone and one equally disheveled lab tech, both flushed, both with frizzed hair, and both looking guilty…very guilty.

Nick heard Mandy gasp as he gulped and the two of them scurried off like church mice in vain, hoping neither of the two supervisors would utter a word.

"You two!" Ecklie ordered. "Turn around right now!"

Pivoting on one foot they turned around and faced Ecklie whose face was bright red as he seethed.

Nick quickly glanced at Grissom's shocked and surprised face.

"You know, I'm not as much of an idiot as people here would like to think," Ecklie said, hands on his hips and walking over to Nick and Mandy who shrank in his presence. "I guess I don't need to know WHAT you two were doing in there?!"

His voice was rising with each word, causing other lab workers such as Judy to turn their heads and look, quickly look away fast. Greg Sanders' eyes widened as he headed for his vehicle.

Nick rubbed his chin and gritted his teeth mumbling, "Umm...I can explain."

"Oh you'll be explaining. In my office. Upstairs. Now!" ordered Ecklie as he pointed the way to them as they walked on, heads down.

"Ecklie, can I take care of this?" Grissom stepped in between them.

Ecklie smirked and answered, "That's like asking the fox to look after the hen house, Grissom. No, I'll handle this. I'll ask Catherine to sit in with us, given that there is an issue of sexual harassment."

"No!" Mandy shot back. "It wasn't."

xxXXxx

Eyes were on them as Ecklie marched them into his office. Mandy's eyes were wide with fear and her arms were folded. She looked toward Henry and Wendy looked at each other in confusion before Wendy's face changed to concern while Henry glared at Nick because it was obviously the Texan's fault as usual as Nick Stokes had turned his sweet and innocent Mandy into a slut he once told her.

_"Innocent! I haven't been innocent since college!" she told him, much to his disappointment._

"Have a seat you two." The door closed behind them, but soon a slight knock was heard as Catherine peered in, eyes wide.

"Grissom just called me and gave me the skinny," she said as she walked in and stared at Mandy and Nick sternly, then sat down between them on Ecklie's cream-coloured leather couch. She leaned over and whispered to Mandy, "Your blouse is buttoned up wrong and you've got a hole in the knee of your nylons."

Mandy pulled her lab coat tighter and her skirt down to hide the evidence as Catherine leaned over to Nick and whispered, "Pull up your fly!"

Nick quickly fixed the damning evidence.

Ecklie took out a leather binder and pulled up a chair in front of them and sat down, crossing his legs as he said, "This is an administration investigation. CSI Nick Stokes and Lab Technician Mandy Webster are in direct violation of lab protocol, engaging in …"

He looked toward them and asked, "What were you two doing in that room?"

Mandy flushed as Nick looked down and twiddled with his college ring.

"Nick?" Catherine asked, "what were you and Mandy doing down there?"

Nick lifted his head, eyes wide, his face pale while Mandy piped up, "It was my idea."

Flashing her a dismayed look, Nick shook his head. "No, it was my idea. Mandy, don't try to cover for me. I text-messaged you."

"I responded." Her eyes were tearing up, causing the Texan's heart to crumble with guilt.

"Okay, okay!" Ecklie held up his hands. "I don't need to know the details. Having said that, the disheveled look you both wear says it all. I just need to know…was it consensual?" He looked directly at Mandy when he asked this.

Nodding hastily she answered, "Absolutely."

"You two are in a relationship, I gather."

They nodded.

"For how long?"

Nick shrugged, "We've been hanging out for almost six months."

"No, I need to know how long have you two been...intimate?" Ecklie asked.

Catherine turned her head to Nick who bit his bottom lip and looked toward Mandy who looked back at him and then looked at Ecklie. "Well, um…um…well...about a month ago...but we kind of had relations about six or seven months ago…it...around the…um..."

Nick's eyebrows became furtive as he watched Mandy babbling incoherently. He looked at Ecklie.

"And what's your timeline Nick?"

"Um…yeah about a month ago."

"What does she mean…seven months ago? What…you guys had a one night stand and then started dating?"

"Ummm…" Nick glanced at Mandy who nodded at him. "Whatever she says."

"Okay, I get it." Ecklie wrote it down. "So you two have been technically on and off for about eight months."

"Yeah." Mandy looked at Nick who shook his head thinking in lolspeak, "I's confoosed."

"There's no policy about CSIs and Lab Techs dating, Conrad," Catherine told the supervisor.

"I know that, but engaging in sexual activity within the confines of the lab is against policy." Ecklie said while writing in his binder. He then stared at them sternly. "You should know better, Nick. You've been working here for 12 years I think it is now. You're a CSI Level III and pretty much ready to take on a leadership role, so how do you expect me to even consider you for any promotions knowing you're having sexual relations in the broom closet with Mandy?"

Nick looked away nervously as Ecklie continued, "Mandy, I'm very surprised at you. You're one of our best workers and yet this happens."

"I'm sorry," Mandy piped up.

Judging by her high pitched voice, Nick could tell she was tearing up out of nervousness and stepped in, "Ecklie, if you have to fire someone, fire me."

The supervisor turned his admonished gaze back onto the apprehensive CSI. "You know, Nick, I know you've been through a lot in the past, and it hasn't gone unnoticed how you've been, for lack of a better word, a real prick around here. Grissom and Catherine are defending you, but believe me I've had some complaints against you both internally and externally. You've been a real ass with the uniforms, suspects, and some of the lab techs, however I've brought them back to your supervisors to let them deal with you because I empathize with you, Nick."

Nick looked down and nodded and looked sideways at Mandy checking to see if she was okay and was relieved to see she was holding her own. She had never been in trouble with someone that high up before. She was a front line lab worker who had numerous levels of management to report to. Therefore, Nick decided to then take the entire level of blame for this one.

"Ecklie, just punish me and leave her out of it, please?" Nick insisted. "I'll take the rap."

Snorting, Eckie leaned back into his chair and straightened his suit. "Unfortunately, this particular episode is not one I can just overlook. There are consequences for both you. This is a complete violation of a policy…a policy we put in place to protect workers from sexual harassment suits."

"That's not gonna happen," Mandy sat up and insisted.

"Oh, I can see that you were more than a willing participant here," Ecklie confirmed, "but I still have to discipline the two of you and make sure that closet is locked up." He took a deep breath and said, "I know you both have requested time off because Nick you'll be taking a leave of absence, and Mandy you'll presumably be joining him."

Mandy stared at him horror and blurted out, "I'm taking that vacation time whether you like it or not…I'll quit…"

Nick leaned over and shook his head at her, "No, you won't! I won't let you quit."

Ecklie held up his hand, "Okay, Romeo and Juliet, relax. You're both leaving in two weeks, so why don't I just suspend the two of you for the next two weeks. Without pay. Then you can start your vacation, honeymoon, or whatever you have planned early." He waved his hand at them and started taking down notes.

Nick's heart, which had been spinning like a whirling dervish, came to an abrupt stop as he looked over at Mandy whose jaw had dropped.

"Umm….Ecklie," Nick said, "how about this? I'll go without pay for four weeks if you allow Mandy to keep her pay. Her pay range is much lower than mine and, this was my fault. I initiated it."

Ecklie's mouth contorted a bit and then he mumbled, "I'll see what I can do. No promises though. There are policies to follow. But fine. No pay cut for Miss Webster."

A sigh of relief escaped Mandy's lips, but vanished under Ecklie's glare.

A silent witness, Catherine nodded in agreement but piped up, "What about their records? Can we just forgo any notations there?"

"Catherine!" Ecklie groaned in exasperation. "It's policy."

"I know that, but Nick and Mandy, they're great workers, Conrad. They've never done anything like this before. Trust me, I'll keep an eye on them when they get back," the blonde criminalist pleaded.

Ecklie tapped the folder for a second and then nodded reluctantly. "Fine, I'll let them off this time with nothing noted on their files. But if there is a next time, I'll suspend them for a month and their records will be marked."

Catherine smiled, "There won't be one. Right, Nick?"

The blonde criminalist shot him a glare as he nodded, "Yep, no next time."

"Mandy?" Catherine turned her attention to the shaking lab tech.

"Absolutely."

Ecklie snapped his case shut and said, "Good, because as I said to Grissom once, nobody wants to know anything about your love life, Nick, or yours, Miss Webster."

The director slammed the door behind them as soon as they filed out of the office.

Catherine told Mandy to wait for her in the locker room while she spoke with Nick. Alone.

The lab tech swallowed hard and told Nick she'd meet him in the locker room. She walked away, wiping tears from her eyes, leaving the Texan guilt ridden. He was used to having a stripe ripped off by Ecklie. Hell, even the Under Sheriff raked him over the coals when his truck with evidence from a crime scene was stolen. As far as Nick was concerned, they had gotten off easy.

XxXXxx

Nick shuffled bleakly into Catherine's office where she slammed the door and coldly told him to sit down. He slumped in the chair blankly, almost cringing under the glare as she leaned on the desk.

"Okay, what the hell were you thinking?" Catherine shot out at the Texan as sternly as she'd looked at Lindsay when her own daughter misbehaved.

"I wasn't," Nick said and shrugged dispassionately.

"Well, Nick you weren't thinking all right, at least not with that lump of yours between your shoulders. Your other head was doing all the thinking for you, wasn't it?!"

"Yeah, it was." The Texan stared straight ahead.

"I've got complaints about you piled high on my desk, and I've been covering your ass since you seem to be not doing much of a job of that yourself, and I'm fed up, Nick. What is going on with you?"

"I don't know."

"God, I know you've had a rough year. Jesus, I can't even begin to fathom the pain you're in right now, Nick." Catherine knelt before him and took his hands in hers. "You know I think the world of you. I've watched you grow up in this job. You were this flirty, cowboy jock who thought he had all the answers yet trying so sickeningly hard to please a boss who couldn't be pleased because he was too wrapped up in his relationship with Sara to even notice you existed."

"Yeah, I know," Nick told her, inwardly scolding himself for the tears that sprang out of his leaky faucet eyes. "You always looked out for me."

"Someone had to, Nick." Catherine's blue eyes were on his. "I was honoured to do it. You're my friend as well as my colleague, but I can't keep protecting you from the damage you're inflicting on yourself. I know why you did what you did, and it's not just because of your feelings for Mandy, which are as sincere as they can be, but are you trying to prove yourself to everyone? Are you so worried about these rumours that you're willing to risk your career and Mandy's for the sake of yet-to-be-proved stories about your prison attack?"

Nick looked at her in shock before turning his gaze away. "You know me too well, Cat."

"More than you know," Catherine agreed solemnly.

"I'm sorry I let you down." He cleared his tightening throat.

"No, that's fine. I think Ecklie took pity on you, and that's why he didn't come down on you or Mandy. You're both lucky, but Nick, if you're going to continue on this self-destructive path don't drag her down too. She's a wonderful, sweet woman who is head over heels in love with you, and I don't even think you appreciate her or else you would have shown more restraint."

"That's not true," Nick said. "I love that girl. She's been the one bright light in my joke of a life." He took a deep breath and continued, feeling awkward at expressing such emotion about anyone to his boss who smiled brightly at his gushing. "I don't want to be on a path of self-destruction. That's why I'm taking this leave of absence."

Catherine squeezed his hands tightly. "I think it will be good for you. You deserve peace of mind, Nick, and peace of heart."

"It's coming up on a year now," Nick said. "That's why I'm going now. I want to get away from here so I can deal with it privately."

"Well, you won't be alone."

"No, I'm going to be with Mandy, and we'll get through it." Nick looked around. "Can I go now? I'm tired." His voice was on the verge of whining.

"I'll bet you are! You both looked like you had a good roll in the hay," Catherine said, "which is pretty good for you. I can remember your shock at Lady Heather's house."

"A roll in the broom closet!" Nick stood up and swept Catherine into a tight hug. "I'll bring back some gifts for you."

"Damn straight!" Catherine petted his back. "Have a great time in Texas, Nick. You're still going to that memorial service?"

"Yeah. I'll be there," Nick said.

"It will be good for you."

"I let the mother down on the stand," he groaned.

"No, you got broadsided by a bitch of a lawyer. Doesn't take away from the fact that you brought the little girl's killer to justice."

Nick turned away as he bit his bottom lip. "Thanks, Catherine."

"See you soon." Catherine led him out and watched him walk away. "And please send Mandy in here."

"Catherine…don't." Nick look dismayed.

"It's protocol. I just have to be sure everything was consensual." Catherine shrugged, business like.

Mandy sat on the bench, purse slung over her shoulder. She had quickly dodged into the bathroom, removed the torn nylons, changed her underpants, buttoned her blouse properly, and brushed her hair out. Then she sat down on the bench and waited nervously, wondering how and what to say to Catherine Willows.

_Shit. What do I say? I mean...I'm not sorry. SO not sorry._

Nick walked down to the locker room, trying in vain to ignore the curious and surprised stares. He could read their minds. Nick Stokes, straight arrow of the lab, getting caught in the act. He really didn't care that people knew he was dating Mandy, but he really wished he could flip his mid-finger at the onlookers particularly Henry who threw a hostile look that could kill.

"Catherine wants to talk to you," he told her, his eyes dark with guilt. As she walked over he stopped her and held her shoulders while saying, "I'm so sorry about this. I'm really, really sorry."

"Why?" Mandy answered, her face as intense as his. "I was there too, and for what it's worth..." She looked around to check for listeners before kissing him on the cheek with a whisper, "I'm not sorry." Nick's shoulders slumped with ease along with a deep sigh because he wasn't sure if Mandy would kick him to the curb for this or at the least, change her shifts immediately upon return from their vacation.

Straightening up, she took a deep breath for bravado and said, "See you in a bit." She started down the hall looking nervously at Wendy who held up her hands in a 'call me' gesture. Hodges looked at her before mumbling something to Bobby Dawson whose jaw dropped to the floor as he loudly said, "No shit!"

She remembered how Sara Sidle looked walking down the halls after word got out that she and Grissom were dating. She was getting the same looks from people. Sara had held her head high, therefore Mandy followed suit pretending nothing was amiss, although people had sharp eyes in here and news did travel fast in this place.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked at the door. Catherine nodded for her to come in. "Close the door, Mandy, and have a seat," She said, her voice icy and businesslike.

Mandy was actually more scared of Catherine than of Grissom. She almost wished it was the bugman that was about to ream her out. However, given the circumstances, policy would have held that she'd be interviewed by a female superior for her actions. Trouble was, Mandy had no regrets. She was trying very hard to fake it though.

"I'm sorry," she sputtered, sitting down on the chair on the other side of the desk. "I didn't mean to get Nick into trouble."

"No, you both got yourselves in trouble," Catherine said. "I just want to make sure it was consensual."

"Yeah, it was," Mandy nodded, looking down.

"He text-messaged you and both of you went down to the broom closet and had…"

"Um…" Mandy's face was flushed. "Yeah...we did…yeah...it…we...sort of...had sexual relations."

"You mean you had intercourse?"

"Yep." Mandy sat up straight in the chair ready to be admonished, scolded, and rebuked for acting in a whorish manner in the lab and how this was just so not her and so forth.

Instead, Catherine leaned back into her black leather chair, then eyed the nervous lab tech sternly while asking, "Was it good?"

Shocked by the question, Mandy stared at Catherine momentarily before a shy smile broke out on her flushed and nervous face as she finally answered, "Yes, it was good."

"Good or damn good? There is a difference," Catherine said, smiling mischievously as she'd had her own fantasies about the Texan over the years. But she'd always reminded herself that he was her subordinate and she was like a big sister to him, looking out for him. She loved the grumpy man and was happy for him, but still she wished he'd control himself a bit. But hey, life was too short and this wasn't the worst thing in the world that he'd done, and the shine on the lab tech's face demonstrated that he was doing something right.

"Well," Mandy giggled, embarrassed, and then took a breath, "it's always damn good. It just happened to be really damn good in the broom closet."

Smirking, Catherine tapped some files and sighed. "Lucky girl! Now go home and enjoy your vacation and keep your cowboy out of trouble."

"Gotcha!"

"Oh and Mandy, next time use the chair to keep the door locked. And Ecklie usually parks there on Mondays," Catherine hinted, raising her eyebrows and adding, "Don't tell anyone I told you this information. I'll leave a copy of that key for you. That way if Nick gets cranky you can take care of matters without fear of being caught. I always said the guy needed a damn good lay to be put into better spirits." The blonde criminalist winked knowingly at her.

Mandy looked at her, stifling her laughter, and smiled. "Thanks." Then blushing she added, "There's always the Denali. They're a lot of fun to have sex in." She winked at the criminalist, relieved.

Eyes wide, Catherine giggled, "I guess I don't have to ask how you know that, but yes, the Denalis are a good place to have sex. Trust me…I know that very well."

Standing up, the lab tech smiled. "Thanks, Catherine."

"Anytime, Mandy."

XxXXxx

Nick was waiting for Mandy to finish her meeting with Catherine. Slowly, he packed his locker up and silently prayed his boss wasn't reaming his girl out. It wasn't her fault. It was entirely his fault. The sound of footsteps came through the door and he turned to see Warrick and Greg walking in, their faces strained in a monumental effort to keep from laughing.

He looked at them. "What**?**!" Nick was starting to get annoyed.

"Hey bro!" Warrick said and then cleared his throat and asked, "How's it hanging?!"

The two CSIs broke into a fit of teenage boy laughter while Nick smiled in amusement and retorted, "You two were saving that up!" Then he turned and noticed Mandy waiting by the door. She nodded at Nick to let him know her meeting with Catherine went well.

Immediately, Warrick and Greg straightened up and politely said hello while she simply said hello back and looked away, unable to look either one of them in the eye.

Nick slid his leather jacket back on, grabbed his belongings, and bid farewell to his comrades, telling them he'd been suspended.

"Hey!" Greg said. "You're lucky. It could have been worse."

"Yeah man!" Warrick guffawed. "Your timing couldn't have been worse. I mean of all people to catch you. Ecklie! You're lucky it wasn't the Under Sheriff."

Nick and Mandy looked at each other, eyes wide before Nick said, "Yeah, I'm glad I'm going away before word gets back to him, knowing Hodges."

"Wendy will take care of Hodges," Mandy assured him, still unable to look at Greg and Warrick.

Warrick patted Nick on the back. "See when you get back! Enjoy your trip."

"You're coming on Friday to the service?" Nick asked.

"Of course," Warrick agreed. "I'll pick you guys up."

XxXXxx

Mandy and Nick drove off in his Tahoe in silence to Lake Mead, stopping at a Chico's Gourmet Food to pick up some potato salad, drinks, and sandwiches. It was Mandy's treat, given that he would be hurting a little in the wallet.

He'd never told her about the settlement. Not deliberately, but just wanting to steer clear of any issue related to the attack.

Finally, Nick admitted to Mandy one of his motives for the passionate display in the broom closet, finishing with a sincere apology and a promise to never take advantage of her like that again and then more apologies for getting her into trouble at work. However, instead of a well-deserved reaming out, he got this admission.

"Hey, there's some of that with me too, Nick. I like being known as the girl who banged Nick Stokes in the broom closet. I guess we all have our selfish side," Mandy confessed, still not able to look him in the eye.

"What's so great about banging me in a closet?" Nick asked. "I never understood this allure I supposedly have."

"That's the allure though," Mandy said. "You don't know you have it, and it's why you're so endearing, love."

"Yeah, I guess."

They picked a spot near some picnic tables and spread out a Hudson Bay blanket Mandy's cousin had sent her after a trip to Canada, and they sat themselves down to eat.

"Suspended," Mandy said. "I've never been suspended from anything in my life." She took a small bite out of her sandwich.

Nick scooped some potato salad into his mouth, "Me neither. Not even from school. I wouldn't dare. My parents would have throttled me."

Mandy sipped her Diet Coke and mustered up the courage to look Nick in the eye and smiled as she asked, "Was it worth it?"

He looked down and finally broke into a big grin. "Yeah, it was worth it."

"That was pretty amazing back there." She sighed at the memory. "I still can't get over Grissom's face."

Nick took Mandy's hand and said sincerely, "I'm sorry, however, about what happened afterwards. I never intended to put you through that. Honestly."

"I'm not sorry," she insisted. "But I'm sorry you lost your pay for a month. You didn't have to do that for me."

"Yeah, I did," Nick said. "My pay scale is a lot higher than yours. I can hack a lost month."

Mandy exhaled and leaned over to kiss him and then whispered, "I thoroughly enjoyed living out the fantasy of fucking you in the lab."

He ducked his head shyly. "Yeah, me too."

They watched a group of kids chasing a soccer ball around, while one child ran with a kite along with her dad and watched in glee as it flew higher and higher in the sky.

"You only get one chance to be a kid," Nick commented, watching the scene, "and then it's gone."

"Naww," Mandy said, "I don't think so, Nick. I think we all can stay kids forever if we want."

"Sometimes I wish I was a kid again," Nick said as he laid his chin in his hand.

"So dude, are you going to the memorial service on Friday?"

"Yep."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Nervous," Nick said. "I'm just not sure why they want me there, and to be honest…other than the time with you, Mandy, I'd like to erase this past year."

"Yeah, it would be nice if our lives were like e-mails and we could just erase what we don't want." Mandy sat up and massaged his neck. "But we can't."

Her cellphone rang, and Mandy pulled it out and laughed, "Wendy."

"Hello?"

"So are the rumours true?"

"What rumours?" Mandy asked innocently.

"You were getting it on with your boy in the basement stairwell and Ecklie and Grissom walked in on you."

"Almost, but the part about Ecklie and Grissom…yeah, we got caught."

"Holy shit. How long have you guys been suspended for?"

"Two weeks, then we're off for six."

"Wow!" Wendy exclaimed. "Well, you're the talk of the lab. We saw your blouse buttoned crookedly and figured as much."

"Well it was dark and I wasn't able to see anything."

"Details."

"Nope. The rumours are probably more interesting anyway." Mandy looked over at Nick who turned away laughing as she said, "Keep me apprised."

"You will tell me though."

Mandy paused and then mumbled, "Call me later and I'll fill you in?" Smirking at Nick's "Oh no you won't!" glare.

"Good. I can't wait to hear 'em," Wendy said.

Mandy flipped the phone off and schooched down as Nick asked, "So when are you gonna move in with me?"

She leaned over and nuzzled his ear. "I'm spending every waking moment at your place when I'm not at the lab. What's the difference?"

"Because my house is empty when you're not there, and I'm tired of being by myself with just a dog and cats, and besides, George, Figaro, and Zack miss you too."

"Well, if George, Figaro, and Zack want me there, then I guess I have to say yes," Mandy said shyly. "Just don't go all ape shit if I don't put something away the way you want it. Your quasi OCD will be the death of me, dude! Not to mention your following George around with antibacterial Febreeze because you're freaked about potty paws. Next thing you know you'll be spraying Pledge on your wooden floor because of Zack's nails and…"

_Pledge._

_Pain._

_Laughter._

He grew quiet for a second. Mandy sensed the tension and asked, "What's wrong?"

"The table smelt like Pledge," he mumbled.

"What table?" Mandy asked.

"The table at the prison," Nick looked her. "That's the worst part about all this. It's the little things that trigger the flashback. It's not huge things. And it's not like I deliberately live in the past, but the past the keeps following me around."

"I know," Mandy said.

"Like that Radiohead album _Rainbows_. Greg was playing it in the truck the day we went there. The alarm in the prison was going off, and every time I hear beeping noises I get freaked a bit. I hear an organ playing and I remember the organ in the chapel playing. Even the word 'cowboy' sets me off. I can't use the drug Trazadone to help me sleep because I used it to help me sleep that night."

"You didn't go to the doctor or the hospital, did you? I mean right after?" Mandy asked.

"No, I couldn't do anything. I was too fucked up. I just went into my house and showered and put my clothes…no…actually...I tried to burn them…but Mrs. Matthews was out there wondering what the hell I was doing. So I put them in a garbage bag. Then I took a swab of them and gave the samples to you to give to your friend." Nick smiled at her.

"And that's how we got started." Mandy smiled back warmly. "But why did you feel it was okay to come to me?"

"I don't know. I guess I always knew I could trust you more than anyone in the lab."

"You didn't know me well enough not to trust me. You took a chance."

"I just had a hunch that you could keep a secret."

"I wouldn't have said anything then Nick about what happened."

"Mandy, I was messed up real bad. I was just trying to get through the first few days, hours, and weeks without blowing my head off. I couldn't look in a mirror. I couldn't be around anyone. I was on autopilot. All I do know is that when we went out that night I laughed for the first time in weeks."

"Yeah, I have that effect on people," Mandy said and added, "Do you still feel that way?"

"Do I feel like doing myself in?" Nick answered, "No, not as much as I did. Little by little that feeling goes away."

Children suddenly appeared and raced around them with a dog following them as they watched one of them lead a blue kite along.

Nick flopped onto his back, drew her close, and said, "I was in the library, alone, reading T.S. Eliot's Hollow Men..."

Mandy braced herself for the emotional onslaught his account was going to bring her.

Some of the details made her stomach ill. When the worst of them stumbled out, his grip around her grew tighter.

"Fucking rag they shoved in my mouth…it smelt like urine. It didn't register with me until after they pulled it out and left. I brushed my teeth and drank mouth wash for days afterwards…couldn't get rid of that fucking taste."

She bit her lip hard as her innards coiled as more details spilled forth. When his voice went up slightly, she whispered that everything would be okay.

Bit by bit he told her of the day he got attacked. It was a slow talk. It was easier to talk about it now, as his therapist had told him it would be. The more he talked about it, the more detached he became from the event, and the more it felt like it really didn't happen to him.

The trouble was, there were reminders of the events of his life involving John McVeigh - one being a scar on his neck from where Grissom had cut his throat to save his life.

And there were the nightmares that left him in a cold sweat; panic attacks that he confused with heart attacks; cases involving rape that his supervisors took off his hands; his weekly therapy trips; waking up before shifts wondering why God had spared him and not a little girl who had her whole life before her while Nick had almost lived half of his. And there were times where he wanted Mandy so badly he couldn't wait to get her home. And then there were times where he couldn't bear to have anyone near him.

Mandy laid in the crook of his shoulder listening as it appeared the horrifying story was coming to a close. His voice reverberated through his chest while he talked as they stared up at the sky, the clouds overhead drifting along and the sound of children playing and giggling away…a welcome sound amongst appalling details spilling from the lips of a tormented man.

"When the guards came in, my gun was on the counter. I don't know how it got there though. I kept thinking one of the directors looked like Barack Obama."

Mandy rubbed his chest and sighed.

By the time he was done, the sun was setting and the sounds of crying babies filled the air. They were pensive, but Mandy wiped the tears from her eyes and finally said in a choked voice, "Well, thank God McVeigh is dead. Thank God Smith is dead."

"Yeah, but neither saw justice for what they did to me."

"Well, if there's a hell you can be sure they are in the middle of it."

"I hope so. The sad thing is they left me to wallow in my hell of nightmares, triggers, friggin' PSTD crap, and all that."

"Well, we've all got our crosses to bear, Nick. Right now it feels like you're in hell, but eventually you'll come out."

"I remember on the way home in Greg's car…wondering how everything around me could be so normal and yet I wasn't because within hours my world went from normal to a horror movie."

"Horror movies end, Nick, and so will yours."

He squeezed her harder and then said, "I'm glad you're coming with me."

"I'm glad I'm going with you. Then I get to see you naked wearing only a Stetson."

"You promise to wear those chaps and nothing else?"

"Oh yeah, I promise." Mandy's eyes glimmered as she said it.

He turned onto his stomach and announced, "I'm going…going...to take those meds after all."

Mandy turned over on her stomach as well and said, "It's only for a while, Nick."

"Maybe not, but it doesn't matter." He shook his head. "I'm okay with it now. It's not a big deal and you're right. I might only need them for a while."

Mandy scrunched her face. "Hope it doesn't kill your sex drive."

"Darlin', the Texas Chainsaw guy couldn't kill my sex drive, and besides I asked the doctor before he prescribed them and he told me this one was fine." He touched her face. "You think I forgot ya?"

"Hope not!" She giggled and then her face grew somber. "I'm glad you told me about it. Shows that you trust me now."

"I trust you 110 per cent," Nick said and then sat up. "Well, it's time to get going. The animals are wondering where we are."

"Yep," Mandy said. She stood up and then pulled out a letter and showed it to him.

"What's this?"

"My letter to my landlord giving him notice of my vacating the premises."

The Texan stood up and swooped her into his arms and whispered, "Welcome to my humble abode."

She drew back, holding his arms, and corrected him, "Our humble abode."

**_A/N: Woe…sex in the lab…..pretty kinky. While I wrote this chapter I was listening to U2 music and this song just had me thinking..and with thinking comes writing.._**


	25. Chapter 25

"Where's Nick

IRREVERSIBLE

CHAPTER 25

_When a deep injury is done us, we never recover until we forgive_

_Alan Paton, South African Writer_

_We achieve inner health only through forgiveness - the forgiveness not only of others but also of ourselves_

_Joshua Loth Liebman _

_Smokey deserves a medal of honour for her edits._

"_C'mon, fucking shoot him."_

_Nick held his breath and waited. He blinked a few times as the tears slid down his face. He could feel the gun trembling against his temple. The Texan was frozen beyond fear, his body no longer his own._

"_What the fuck is wrong with you? Shoot him!" McVeigh ordered._

"_I can't do it," Smith rasped._

"_Then let me do it!"_

"_No! We got what we wanted." _

"_He'll rat if we let him go alive."_

_Nick's eyes popped open and he shook his head. "No" and a tiny whimper escaped his throat._

"_Let's get out of here," Smith's voice said, tinged with emotion, "before we get caught." Then the man was behind him and yanking him up._

"Jesus! Jesus!!" Nick jackknifed in bed and looked around, frantically gasping. What the hell was that? He looked around the freshly painted bedroom and focused on the new degree Grissom had given him in the brass frame with his alma mater insignia from Texas Tech University engraved on it. The insignia had a star on it, and he focused on this star to calm his nerves.

He took a swig of room temperature water from the bottle he had set on the table along with the Atavan he had forgotten to take. Nick picked up the bottle and gingerly fingered it between his fingers wondering if he should pop one and allow it to do its job, giving him the 'restorative' sleep his therapist said he sorely needed, or if he should just try to wing it again.

Mandy was having a 'girls' night' out with Catherine, Jacqui, Wendy, and Sara Sidle before the former CSI left to go back to Africa.

Exhaling, Nick put the bottle back on the table and lay back onto the pillow, hands behind his head.

This was happening more often. As he healed from the attack, the blackouts were clearing and more memories seemed to infiltrate the spaces. While he wished it weren't the case, in some ways the information helped. A small part of him was now finally finding forgiveness towards Smith for his role, knowing the guy saved his life. As hard as it was, Nick at least was getting past the pain of wishing they had killed him that day. He chose life more so to spite McVeigh who was now dead and rotting away, hopefully, in hell.

Nick placed his fingers on his temples and rubbed them, allowing his nerves to settle on their own accord instead of running to grab the Atavan that taunted him from the table. Dr. Marsmann and he had worked on the grounding technique again, so he counted five things he saw, five things he could feel, and five things he could hear. Then he reached under the pillow and clasped Mandy's prayer beads.

Nerves settled, he lay back onto the bed. The phone rang, causing him to jump up again, his nerves still rattled apparently.

"Hello?"

"Hey! Did I wake you?" It was Sara. She sounded so far away.

"No, I was already up." He smiled at hearing her voice.

"How are you?" she asked brightly.

"Where are you?" Nick asked, hearing PA systems and many voices.

"At the airport…ready to take off." She paused then scolded him, "You should have been coming with me."

Leaning back into the pillows, he sighed. "I wasn't ready yet, Sara."

"I know, and you were right. It's only for a year," Sara said.

"Yep. In an hour I'll be off too."

"So you are going to that memorial service?" It sounded more like a command than a question.

"Yeah, her mother sent me an e-mail, and after I read it I couldn't say no."

"Really? Do you want to forward it to me?"

"Yeah sure." Nick laid an arm across his forehead and went on, "Sara, thanks for being a good friend through all this."

"You know what, Nick? I had to be. I wasn't there for you after the kidnapping ordeal with the Gordons."

"Sara! You found me. You were there afterwards, so don't be saying that."

"But then things happened with Grissom and I kind of got caught up in it," Sara said ruefully. "And I'm sorry I never said goodbye to you when I left. I was messed up. Big time!"

Nick smiled. "Hey, don't worry about it. I didn't need anyone hovering around me anyway."

"Well, I'm glad I could be there for you, and I think you're doing much better now."

"Thanks for helping me out with Mandy."

"I wasn't going to let you lose a really nice, sweet girl like her. A girl like that doesn't come around often. She just needed some perspective on things." Sara's smile could be heard through her voice. "And I'm leaving you in good hands."

"Sara, will there ever be a day that goes by where I won't think about the…rape?" Even after all these months, he still could hardly bring himself to say the R word.

Sara was silent as she gathered her thoughts and then answered, "I think it will get to a point where you'll not allow it to haunt you as much, just like your kidnapping. I do think you will always be triggered, and no matter how much therapy you get there will be dark days, but those days will come less and less."

"The reason I initially declined going to the memorial service is because I know after it's over, mentally I'm going back to the day. The anniversary is coming up, and I'm just not coping with it at all. I'm trying, but Jesus…it's tough."

"Yeah, I know, Nick," Sara said with a sad sigh. "Just breathe and take it minute by minute, second by second, okay? I'm only an e-mail away, and if you need to rant and rave then just do it. Think of me as a journal. I can stay objective and sympathetic no matter what you say."

"You must have been freaked when I first sent you that e-mail after it happened."

"Nick, I just wanted to jump through the computer and hug you, just like I did when I had to watch you on that webcam during your kidnapping."

"I could have used a big hug then."

"Well, I can't do it now, so Mandy will have to hug you for me."

"That's not a hard job for her." Nick smiled through the phone.

"Oh I know, and uh…I…heard about what happened. Grissom told me." Sara laughed. "You bad boy!"

"Grissom looked like he was going to have a heart attack. Was he pissed?"

"No, just shocked and then amused. We had a good laugh over it."

"Well, I guess I'm good for something," Nick scoffed. "Giving you two a laugh when you guys just got lucky and never got caught."

"Well, Grissom knew Ecklie's schedule, and we didn't let it get that far."

"Liar!" Nick snorted.

"No, we didn't!" Sara insisted. "You two lovebirds took it way beyond anything we did. Maybe lovebirds is the wrong analogy. From what Grissom saw, he thought he walked in on an episode of _Californication_. You need to get your own show, Nick, and call it Vegasvamps or something"

"I don't have a sex addiction!" Nick snorted.

"Sure! And I'm Mother Theresa!"

"Whatever!" The Texan shook his head and continued, "I'm sure you two didn't do anything but talk about bugs."

"No, we read Shakespeare to each other. Well, they're calling my plane. Take it easy, Nick."

"Thanks, Sara. Thanks for calling and for everything."

"Anytime!"

Nick hung up the phone and looked at George who was sitting in front of him, pointy head cocked to the side. "Shakespeare my ass!"

George chirped in agreement, walked over, and head butted him on the chin while Figaro meowed and waited for Nick to pick him up. All of a sudden the bed shook as Zack leaped onto it and settled down on Mandy's side of the bed, tongue hanging happily.

"You know that you're gonna get kicked off when she gets home, right?"

Zack barked in response as if to say, "Yep!"

"Fine, everybody, let's all go night night!" Nick laid Figaro on the pillow and then slid back down and drifted off.

"Alright!" a sweet voice said sternly accompanied by a shifting of the bed. "Make room for me."

Mandy crawled up and settled down beside Nick, squishing herself on the pillow. "Hey you."

"Hey!" He clasped the hand that slid around his waist.

"What are you doing awake?" Mandy scolded. "You're supposed to be getting some rest for tomorrow."

"Sara called me."

"Oh yeah, she joined us for a bit," Mandy said as she snuggled down in the crook of his shoulder.

"Mandy?" Nick said.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." He turned over and faced her.

"For what?" she asked, her eyes filled with curiosity.

"For taking a chance with a guy like me." He smiled and stroked her cheek his thumb. "I don't deserve you."

Mandy smiled tenderly at him and said, "I feel the same way after what I put you through."

"Only because you're a jealous girl, but then I'm jealous too," he teased. But then his tone became serious. "No, but you know another reason I love you? You took on someone damaged like me."

Mandy fixed him with a stern stare. "Don't you ever, EVER, say that about yourself, dude. And just so you know, I don't see any damage because it's not there, and even if there was damage the love I feel for you overshadows it." She leaned over and kissed him soundly and then whispered, "You've got a long day ahead of you, so get some rest."

"Yes ma'am." Nick curled up onto his side and listened as she changed into her pajamas and drifted off to a dreamless slumber with George plopped over his head.

xxXXxx

The past three days of their suspension had been spent fixing up his place, giving it a softer look than the previous sports/science adornment. The walls were dark grey and the trophies found themselves a new home in the solarium Nick had built onto the back of the house last summer.

Mandy had brought her furniture over and turned the guest room into an office for her to do consulting work during her off hours from the lab, and she had started writing Star Trek fan fiction as well.

It was a peaceful co-existence maintained in a routine of getting up in the morning and taking brisk one hour walks with Zack. The dog trainer had told them that exercise was very, very important for a dog and since Nick loved to work out and Mandy was starting to enjoy it as well, the three of them benefited from the routine.

Nick also spent time drawing more pictures of nothing really significant. He drew a great shot of Figaro sitting in the solarium sunning himself on a scratching post ledge with his front paws tucked under his curled body, his blind, blue eyes facing the sun. The Texan didn't think his drawing did the feline justice, but Mandy begged to differ and purchased a brown wooden frame at a flea market to put the picture in for the wall. She insisted on devoting one wall to his photos and drawings. Nick agreed to the very end of the wall right by the solarium where no one but they could see it.

Neither talked about the reason why they were home. No references were made to it. Mandy had suggested that they leave early and head off to Texas, but Nick declined, fearful of suspicion from his parents as to why they were there early. They were lucky enough that his mother would allow them to stay in the cottage together given her beliefs about non-married couples co-habitating. Mother Stokes had told him that at this point in the game they were just glad he had maintained a solid relationship longer than he had in years as they were convinced he'd be a turncoat and become a priest, to which Nick answered the holy water would boil over in his bare hands.

His mother didn't like that comment, so he shut up.

xxXXxx

"Where's Nick?" Warrick asked Mandy as he waited by the door. They were heading off to the Joanna Barker Memorial Service.

"Hey, George! Let go!" a voice accented by a southern twang called out.

Warrick turned his attention to outside the front door and walked out to find Nick holding George by the scruff. The orange kitty had a chipmunk in his mouth. The hapless animal was curled into a fetal position, frozen with fear.

"Dammit, George!! I feed you the best food around, so drop the friggin' thing. Now!!"

George growled and refused to let go. His eyes were black with triumph and disappointment as he just wanted to show his master his new play toy. Therefore, the orange fluff ball held steadfast.

"Let go!!" Nick growled back, equally determined to prevent a crime scene.

The chipmunk wiggled and freed itself, then raced off.

Warrick stood there with his hands on his hips while Mandy laughed. "You really did cry during _Bambi,_ Nick, didn't you?"

Sunglasses perched on his nose, there was nothing more amusing than seeing Nick Stokes, dressed to the nines in a grey suit and white dress shirt, marching angrily up the steps with a growling, orange tabby named after his doppelganger.

"The last time he ate a mouse I had to take him to the vet and get him de-wormed, and I'm not in the mood for dealing with this right now." Nick scowled as he tossed the snarling kitty into the house whereupon George glared at his owner and then flicked his tail at him. "And I'm tired of coming out my front door to a half-eaten mouse left for me. Next thing you know, George will be tying a bow around it."

"He's bringing you a present," Mandy insisted. She was dressed in black dress pants, a blue blouse, and an accompanying blazer, her hair swept into soft waves framing her sweet face. "He loves you so much that he wants to share his triumphs with you."

"I'm flattered!" Nick snorted sarcastically. "But I found the last one in my shoe, and it wasn't pleasant."

Warrick grimaced. "That's a weird way of showing your love to someone."

"Healthy man-cat love, Warrick. Like us." Nick smiled. "In fact, I think I'll go stomp on one of Grissom's tarantulas and stuff it in your locker to show my healthy man love for you."

"Yeah, you do that and I'll clock you one, although Grissom will probably get to you before me."

George slipped out the front door only to find himself up in a scruff again. "Don't you even think about it," Nick growled.

The cat reached out and tried to swat Nick in the nose and was thanked with a toss through the front door. Mandy groaned. "Good lord. I'm living in a ½ hour comedy. I'm gonna called it the King of Vegas starring Nick Stokes."

"What is with me and TV shows? I look like some guy in a crime show, Sara says they should do a show about my supposed sex addiction, and now a ½ hour comedy...whatever," Nick humphed and then added, "I couldn't act my way out of a paper bag!"

"Did I hear you say you have a sex addiction?!" Mrs. Matthews called over as she sat on her stoop with a can of Diet Coke and EIGHT tabbies sitting beside her. Nick was convinced those cats were now dividing themselves, one cat splitting into two. "Good for you, Nick, for finally admitting it, because as they say the first step to recovery is admitting it. Now if you can do something about all that damn drinking you're doing then we're well on our way to avoiding the men in white making an emergency trip to your house." Her eyes gleamed merrily with delight at her bantering.

Warrick snorted and turned away while Mandy clasped a hand over her face to hold back her own laughter, and Nick bit his tongue because he wanted to shout something back about her feline addiction, but his momma taught him to respect his elders and for once he'd listen.

"Have a nice day, Mrs. Matthews!" Nick said with a wave before turning to Mandy and Warrick with, "Let's go before I say something I regret."

Still smirking, Warrick went on ahead, but Nick gently took Mandy by the arm and whispered, "IF I have a sex addiction, you're my enabler!!"

"Oh whatever!!" Mandy mumbled back as he noticed today she wore her glasses. She would probably switch to the contacts later, but he didn't care either way. With a salacious smile she punched the Texan's arm.

Nick mocked, "Hey! Warrick, she hit me! Call Brass and have her brought up on assault charges."

"Yeah, whatever!" Warrick shook his head as he slid behind the wheel. "Should I drop you two off at the nursery up the road?"

"No," Mandy giggled. "Nick was suspended for not sharing his crayons." She got into the vehicle beside him while Nick politely sat in the back. "And then I got suspended for punching him."

They pulled out and headed off.

"No, we got suspended for playing I'll show you mine and you show my yours, only it was in the broom closet at work," Nick said. "Remember, Mandy?!"

Mandy smiled at him wistfully and flushed. "How could I forget? It was awesome." She looked over at Warrick to gage his reaction and was delighted to see him grunting in discomfort as was Nick.

"Okay, okay, you two, that's way too much information for me!" Warrick groaned watching the two of them make lovey dovey eyes at one another. "Geeze, you two make me sick. You're so cutesey wootsy. Like those little stuffed animals they sell in Hallmark with the velcro arms wrapped around one another.

"Didn't you buy me one for Valentine's one year, Warrick?" Nick said with a demure smile he flashed in the rearview mirror, blowing a kiss to his friend. "I still have it in my locker!"

"Yeah, next to your blue woobie!"

"Hey, leave my woobie alone!" Nick whined folding his arms in a playful childlike manner. "It's my transitional object!" Then he noticed they were getting close to the park as they had left the more middle class area of Vegas and were heading into a familiar area.

Now Nick remembered. This was the neighbourhood where poor Brass had accidentally shot the cop. It was not far off Henderson where the income level of said residents was lower. It hadn't changed much since that fateful day three years ago, and he wondered if Brass, who was coming to the memorial, was dealing with his own demonic flashbacks.

Joanna's parents were far from rich. Her dad had been in an auto accident years prior and had lost not only his job as a result but their life savings on health care costs. They moved into the area for cheaper housing and to be closer to Joanna's grandparents who had lived there for over 40 years. He was still unable to work but was trying to put a writing career in order while her mom worked at the YMCA as an exercise instructor. The money was not great, but it gave her the flexibility to look after her family which included Joanna's two younger siblings.

When Nick had read about the family, it made his heart sink to know how much tragedy these poor people had endured. Money, health, and now a child dead.

Life was truly unfair!

Ron Chevarie had been found guilty and was sentenced to death. His insanity plea didn't work out. Apparently, Marjorie Wescott's attempt to discredit Nick and subsequently Warrick didn't go over so well this time around. Perhaps the murder of a child was not something a jury was willing to let someone off with, insanity or no insanity.

Nick was just relieved that Chevarie would never see the outside world again. One more evil son of a bitch off the street.

Still, the case haunted him because there was still that nagging feeling that if someone had to die after being so horrifically attacked, it should have been him, not a ten year old girl, but himself because hell, he'd lived almost half his life whereas she had a whole life ahead of her.

"What's wrong?" He heard Mandy's voice pervade his dark, cloudy thoughts that changed the mood in the car from playful to somber.

"Nothing. I just want to get this over with. I mean I'm honoured, but I have a hard time being around them. It just brings me back to that time is all." Nick slid his shades back on and twiddled with his college ring.

"Well, it's all about Joanna today, Nick," Warrick said. "Her mom told me she very much wanted you there. She knows a bit of your history…remembers watching the news three years ago when you were kidnapped and she admires you very much…both her parents do. They felt you should be there to see some closure on this case."

"Their daughter is dead. There's no closure there."

"Maybe they don't see it that way, Nick," Mandy told him.

Warrick drove them over to the playground where Joanna Barker used to love hanging out with her friends. He played some soft jazz music while Nick sat in the back staring out the window and Mandy sat quietly in the front.

Truth be known, Nick was scared to death to go because the Joanna Barker case triggered him back to the days after his attack. He was making slow but steady progress in therapy, and Dr. Marsmann had told him if he didn't want to go he shouldn't have to, but then she pointed out correctly that some of his emotions could be deemed 'survivor guilt' as Nick had blurted out to her. "I can't help but think it should have been me dead and not her. She was a little girl, and I've lived my life and really, why am I still alive and she's dead? Why did Smith not pull the trigger?"

Which brought back another memory from the vault of blackness.

In the letter, Smith admitted being the one who dressed him afterwards. Redressing a victim of rape is seen as a sign of regret or remorse, and Nick concluded that while McVeigh took pleasure in his attack on him, Smith did not. Therefore a small part of the Texan was able to forgive at least one of his attackers slightly.

"Hey, you still here?" Warrick called.

"Yeah," Nick said. "Just thinking."

"You do enough of that, so stop it!" Warrick called back.

The Texan had written Mrs. Barker an apology letter saying he may not be able to attend and hoped that would be it, but Mrs. Barker had sent an e-mail to him. He pulled it out of his pocket and read it again.

_Dear Mr. Stokes_:

_I am writing this on the eve of your testimony in court. I tried to track you down today, but you had already left._

_Thank you for everything you did for Joanna and our family. If it weren't for you and your colleagues at LVPD, there would have been no justice for our daughter and Chevarie might have gone on and hurt more children. _

_It sounds like you have had a rough life in the past year and I'm very sorry to hear of it and will add you into my prayers so that the Lord will continue to give you the strength and courage to continue with the work that you do. You have a very crucial and important job-to keep the streets safe for our children. It's a thankless job which is why I'm sending you this note to ensure you that your good work does not go unnoticed._

_So I do hope you come out to the event. It will be low key, but very touching-a fitting tribute to my beautiful daughter. _

_My prayers are with you, Mr. Stokes. I hope life brings you good health and peace of mind._

_Trudi Barker_

Nick put the letter back in his pocket and leaned back into the seat. They were almost there. There was no way after that letter he could NOT go. Outof respect for the mother and the daughter, he had to be there.

XxXXxx

Our God is an awesome God

_He reigns from Heaven above_

Joanna Barker attended Church of Christ Baptist Church, an evangelical church. She sang in the choir, but not today. Today, her fellow choir members sang jubilantly, breaking into a harmony while her fellow parishioners clapped and sang along dressed in jeans, t-shirts, skirts, and Canvass shoes, just as her mother wanted them to be as it was a day for the kids. They performed on a plywood makeshift stage complete with a small metal podium. The backdrop was a large red velour curtain hanging presumably over the mural.

Nick sat in the back row with the rest of the team, feeling a bit awkward, although he was kind of used to this after his sister became a 'born again' Christian after he was buried alive. His teammates were probably not, save for Warrick.

"Those kids are good!" Warrick commented. "Damn good. I saw this clip on You Tube with some Tanzanian kids singing it."

"Hmm," Nick said. "My sister's kids sang this song to me while I was visiting last summer."

Warrick smirked at him. "Still trying to convince you to become a born-again Christian?"

"Yeah," Nick nodded wearily.

"What do you tell her?"

"I was born once, thank you very much.**"**

The black man smiled and shook his head. "It ain't so bad."

"I know. I'm just quiet on these things, you know?" Nick explained, not willing to share his near death experience of playing cards with Buddha, Jesus, Death, his cat, George, and drinking beer with them along with Johnny Cash, Elvis, and Kurt Cobain with anyone other than Mandy who thought it was funny and Grissom who had a philosophical and scientific take on it.

Nick leaned over to Warrick again. "Isn't this a bit of a happy tune for a memorial?"

Grissom, who was sitting behind him, heard the question. "A memorial is to celebrate someone's life. It's not a funeral."

"I know. I just thought they'd sing something more..." Nick's voice trailed off as he tried to remember why he hadn't gone to the funeral. Oh yeah…he was pretty sick by then, and what strength he had went straight to solving Joanna's murder. He had made a 300 donation to the Vegas Humane Society in her honour, having been told how much she loved animals.

The song ended with a thunderous round of applause as the children smiled shyly and descended the stage. Joanna Barker's mother then took the podium and thanked everyone for coming out and especially thanked the members of the LVPD, including the forensics team, for taking time out of their busy schedule to attend this very important service. Then she got to the heart of the matter.

"Joanna was a special little girl. She liked music…loved all kinds of music. She was learning to play the piano, and she loved being a part of the choir. This song we chose today was her favourite one. She used to play the Michael W. Smith version over and over again."

There was light laughter in the audience as Warrick turned to Nick who said, "Christian rock singer. He's actually pretty good. Not that I listen to him."

"So what if you did?" Warrick shrugged.

"But there is a point to this song, and that message is that no matter how bad our lives are and how horrible the world is around us, there is always good. It shows itself in small ways, such as the sight of a bird flying through the sky, or in huge ways, working through people who are out there trying to keep our streets a safer place.

And God works through us in other ways, and that is through forgiveness. Many of you were shocked when I said in my victim impact statement that I had forgiven Ron Chevarie for taking Joanna from us in such a horrid way, but there's a reason, and it's not always about being a good Chrisian." Joanna turned her gaze toward Nick. "It's about not living in the past, because when you go down a road of hate, anger, and rage toward those who hurt you, you've locked yourself into a prison. Ron Chevarie is in prison for life for what he did, but I'm not going to let what he did to my daughter imprison me as well. Joanna wouldn't have wanted that.

Forgiveness is about living and not letting the past chain you up. Forgiveness is about healing. Forgiveness is about continuing forward and living out the life God intended you to live, not on the timeline you decide to take. Believe me, when Joannafirst died, I wanted to die too. I wanted to be with her, but I knew she wouldn't want that for me, nor would God want that for me. He has his own timeline for me and for all of us.

Yes there are evil people out there, but to not forgive them is to give them more power over your life and your destiny, and God doesn't want that for us. He wants us through him to be in charge of our destiny and to continue to conquer the evil by being all that he wants us to be.

And you know what? Don't remember Joanna as a victim. Remember the good she brought into each and every one of your lives."

Nick was looking down because dammit, those leaky faucets were at it again. He felt the warmth of Mandy's hand linking his and squeezing as she leaned over and discreetly handed him a tissue.

xxXXxx

The mural was unveiled and it was gorgeous; an entire wall of her face. The artist captured the hints of gold in her hazel eyes, an accurate count of the freckles, the mass of rusty curls in soft waves around her face, and a smile that must have lit up a room. The background of the portrait was a blue sky with balloons, clouds, and kittens. She loved kittens.

Nick smiled at Mandy while he heard Warrick mutter, "Wow, that's pretty amazing. Heard they got some local kids who were known to police for the eloquent graffiti art to put their skills to use."

Indeed, two young males, miniature versions of Warrick, walked up to the podium and received gifts of iPods, donations from a local dealer who helped sponsor the event. Embarrassed by the attention at first, they eagerly accepted the gifts and then hugged Joanna's mother and father in thanks.

"Apparently, this mural was their get out of probation free card," Warrick said.

"Hey, whatever gets them on the right path," Nick said. "As long as we don't have to see them on a slab in few years or even in Clark County holding."

A local eatery had donated the spread of cheese, meats, crackers, wraps, vegetables, and deserts upon deserts. Nick wasn't very hungry and tried to make himself scarce while Mandy helped herself and stood aside talking to Catherine and Grissom.

Nick found a bench in front of the small playground and watched as a small boy asked his dad to push him higher and higher on a swing.

"_Higher dad!!" Nick squealed._

"_Okay, Pancho, higher and higher we go!!" his dad called back._

"Mr. Stokes?"

Nick turned around and saw Trudi Barker walking toward him. Her small frame was dressed in a navy blue button-up dress with a gold buttons and a gold belt fastened snuggly around her waist while her reddish hair was swept back in a low pony tail. Laugh lines decorated her green eyes and freckles decorated her cheeks. She was truly her daughter's mother as Nick recalled from seeing her daughter in the morgue.

"How are you?" she asked, genuinely pleased to see him.

"Good!" he answered and then gestured to the empty spot beside him. "Have a seat and just call me Nick."

Smiling warmly she walked over and sat beside him, hands clenched on her lap. "Nick, I'm so glad you came today," she said. While her eyes were bright, Nick could see the glimmer of a forever haunting sadness in her eyes, one that echoed his own. Crime victim to crime victim, a silent pain only those who had been through a crime and survived could understand. "You did great on the stand in spite of that horrid lawyer."

"Yeah," said Nick, and he turned to gaze upon the kids on the playground adding, "I don't think so. I'm sorry." He turned back to her feeling guilt-ridden.

She shook her head. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You did very well. If anything I'm sorry to hear you've had a rough time lately."

Nick stared her and could catch a glimpse of wisdom there and perhaps, perhaps she could answer this question. "I jus was thinking about the speech and you know…I just want to know…how did you find forgiveness for Chevarie?"

She blinked and pressed her lips together tightly. "It took a long time. I have my faith and I drew my strength from it. Forgiveness is an ongoing journey and a process one has to come to on their own terms."

Trudi then stared directly into Nick's eyes. "I know you've been through a lot because when I asked about the CSI handling my daughter's case, I was given your name and it rang a bell with me. So I did a little research, wanting to know the last person other than the funeral director who would be with my daughter before we put her in the ground."

Nick looked down and sighed. "Yeah, I've been a victim. Hazard of the job I guess."

"Sounds like it," Trudi agreed. "But I guess what it really was…after what happened to you three years you stayed on. I don't know if I could have done it."

"Well, I wasn't going to let some jerks drive me out of my job," Nick explained to her.

"And I'm not going to allow any man to drive away any good that will come out of my daughter's death. But there are two people I'm learning to forgive - Chevarie and myself."

"You?" Nick asked, surprised.

"Yes, because as a parent I wasn't there to protect her. She needed me and I wasn't there. I had to forgive myself for that."

"No way!" Nick shook his head. "You shouldn't be angry with yourself."

Trudi studied him for a second and looked away with tears brimming around her eyes. "You don't have any children, do you Nick?"

"No, I don't." He swallowed and looked down.

"Well, when your child is first born all you want to do is protect them from the evil of this world. Shield them, shelter them, and when harm comes to them the rage you feel toward yourself – words can't describe it. The guilt is relentless and I've had to..." Her voice quivered as she continued on, "I've had to learn to forgive myself for letting her down as a mother; then I had to learn to forgive Chevarie because the pain of not doing so would have imprisoned me along with him, and I didn't want to be imprisoned by the evil he committed on Joanna, myself, or my family."

Finally, she turned her gaze back onto Nick who felt tears swimming in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away as she continued, "The rage toward myself was stronger than the rage I had toward him. That's the worst part of any kind of violence that comes our way…the helplessness that we felt when it happened and that we couldn't help her and couldn't protect her from evil." She cleared her throat and looked away, noticing the Texan's own tears. "Once I began the process of that long journey of forgiveness, the rage started to disappear and now I feel some sense of peace, and with that peace I can continue to move on and be a mother to my remaining children and a wife to my husband who needs me. I had no choice, Nick. I had to forgive or risk being of no good to those who are left around me."

Nick sighed heavily. "You have kids though. They keep you going and keep you motivated." For the first time in his adulthood his mother's nagging about his lack of children started to resonate with him.

"You have yourself, you have friends who need you, and there are always going to be victims of crime who will need you." Trudi laid her hand on his and Nick finally looked at her and the tears dripped out.

"I'm sorry," he laughed and wiped them away. "You made a really good point."

"I'm glad to hear that." Trudi tilted her head and smiled at him sweetly. "I would never try to push my faith on people, but it really helped me, Nick. You're always welcome at our church, any Sunday at 10:00 a.m."

He nodded, thinking he'd burn up as soon as he entered the perimeter of any church, but all he said was, "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

XxXXxx

"So you're leaving Vegas in another week?" Dr. Marsmann said.

"Yeah. I think I'll be okay for a bit without you," Nick said sheepishly. He had shared the details of his suspension, noticing the therapist's eyes rising in amusement but also in speculation.

His appointment came one day after the memorial, and Trudi Barker's speech still played in his mind. He relayed the details of his encounter with the murdered girl's mother and asked Dr. Marsmann what she thought.

"I'm not a particularly religious person, but I think there's definitely merit in learning to 'forgive' as victims. Sometimes I think it is overdone, but on the other hand I believe, Nick, that you have two people to forgive - McVeigh and yourself."

"Me?" Nick asked, confused.

"Yes, you." Dr. Marsmann took a deep breath. "What happened to you on both occasions was beyond your control. That's probably what is at the centre of your rage. Your attack evoked a feeling of helplessness in you. Let's look at your attack objectively. You had no warning and no preparation."

Shaking his head, Nick said, "I've been trained to defend myself…"

"You were sick that day, you were outnumbered, it was dark, and they took your gun," she retorted empathetically.

"I could have grabbed my gun from them…" Nick felt a panicky feeling rise in him.

"There was never a real legitimate explanation as to why it happened, other than revenge against your father."

"He wanted to get back at me for what was done to him in prison."

"And the fact that he got to you again is proof that there is uncertainty that you are safe." Dr. Marsmann was pressing him, not going to give this up.

This was going to be a tough one.

His hands rolled into fists and he said, "That's for sure! I've been held a gunpoint…twice, been thrown out a window, buried alive and then…violated…not once...but twice in my life and almost three times." Nick felt the pit of his stomach begin to boil. "I know for a fact that this world is not safe, at least for not me."

"And with that uncertainty comes fear which leads to rage which is your barrier against fear. You're very, very afraid, Nick."

The dark-haired man folded his arms defiantly as this woman was starting to go places with him that were off limits and his internal guard dog was growling. He stared down at his jeans, noticing a small hole in them, and studied it.

"Look at me." Her voice was firm.

Nick turned his eyes toward the woman as she continued, "I'm hitting a nerve."

"Big time. I could have done something…" he muttered, his voice guttural.

"Does it matter now, Nick?" She was not letting up.

"Yes." His nostrils flared

"Let's look at McVeigh and get to know him a bit. He was a deranged lunatic who had no control over his life and obviously led one that was horrific. Feeling empathy toward him gives some balance to the situation, and in fact let's go so far as to say that feeling empathy toward all those who have attacked you balances the playing field here."

Nick's stance was softening as he swallowed a lump in his throat and finally answered gruffly, "Yeah."

"And forgiving yourself, Nick, is important because if you don't you will let this become part of your identity. It will distort your present and your future. Forgiving Nick Stokes is the first step to forgiving McVeigh and then healing and moving on, because you deserve it. You don't deserve to live this way with rage becoming a driving factor, robbing you of the good you have in your life…your job, your friends, your girlfriend, and your family. You still have a long life ahead of you and a good one if you get a grip on your rage, or else once more you'll be a victim - to yourself."

The office was quiet save for a small fountain as Nick chewed on the words of wisdom before him. He finally looked up at Dr. Marsmann and cleared his throat. "Well, we can't let me be a crime victim to me, can we?" He rubbed his nose and inhaled and continued. "It's hard to forgive someone who robbed you of not only your identity but your masculinity as well. A real man wouldn't let what happened happen."

"Why not?"

"Because that's how it is?"

"That's how society wants it be."

"Yeah, well...society dictates that a real man wouldn't allow himself to be…to..." Nick took deep breaths because this woman had done the unthinkable. She had tapped into the mine of rage and it came blubbering out, "A real man wouldn't let himself get bent over a friggin' table and have...some…lunatic ram it up his…ass...so freakin' hard he was bleeding for days…a real man wouldn't let some SOBs shove a urine-soaked rag into his mouth..a real man wouldn't cry and weep so hard he sounded like a freakin' puppy…a real man wouldn't be...begging and pleading for his life."

Nick stared at the stained-glass picture of a parrot hanging in the window. "A real man would have fought them off, but I was like this…this chipmunk my cat had its mouth. Frozen with fear."

"So are you saying you let it happen, Nick? You willingly allowed yourself to be violated? You woke up one morning and decided to allow yourself to be treated as such?"

He looked back at her, eyebrows knitted. "No."

"Of course not. That's why you need to forgive yourself first and foremost, because the fact of the matter is this was not your fault in any way, shape, or form. Once you come to realize this, you will then forgive yourself, and when you forgive yourself, you'll forgive McVeigh. Then you'll find some semblance of inner peace. It's a long process, but it starts with you saying four words, Nick."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"It wasn't my fault." Dr. Marssman's eyes stared intensely into his as she continued, "Can you say those words, Nick?"

The Texan looked toward the parrot.

"Look at me, Nick."

He looked at her and then down and ran a tongue over his bottom lip, then finally he looked up at her and quietly said, "It wasn't my fault."

Four simple words detonated the barrier of rage, its stone crumbling down within him as he slowly buried his face in his hands and said it again, 'It wasn't my fault." Sobs erupted as the aftershock of the crumbling wall coursed through him as he repeated the mantra, "It wasn't my fault." The words continued to flow out of his mouth, punctuated by sobs as he rocked back and forth and said it again as the sobs spilled forth.

Finally, he gathered his wits about him and sat back up, grateful for the tissue box that she had on a small table next to him. Nick dried his eyes and collected himself.

"You sure know how to bring a man to tears," he joked as Dr. Marsmann smiled at him and said, "You did a great job today, Nick. I guess before you left I thought I'd give you a good push toward this since you won't be back for six weeks." Then she leaned over again. "You have my number though. I'm a phone call away if you need me."

"Yeah, I know," Nick said, feeling exhausted from this most intense therapy session, the most intense he'd ever had. Yet, he a cathartic feeling from having a deep-seated blame hung over his shoulders like a yoke finally lifted off of him, leaving him with sense of freedom.

xxXXxx

"What did you say this show was called?" Nick asked as he laid sideways on the couch with his head in Mandy's lap, relishing in the tingling sensation of her fingers stroking his hair and noting that he would have to tell her she'd found an erogenous zone. George planted himself on his hip and soon Figaro joined him, the two kitties licking each other in mutual bonding.

"_Torchwood,_" she answered as she ran her index finger along the tip of his ear. "About these people who investigate extraterrestrial incidents on earth."

"Oh, a British version of the X-Files?" Nick asked.

"Kind of."

"With the male lead being gay?"

"Uh…I think's he's bi," Mandy answered. "Is that gonna be a problem?"

"Nope," he said. "That comment the lead guy said to the other guy who jumped into the water about enjoying watching a man in tight pants run into water was pretty funny."

"Yeah, Captain Jack..silly boy."

Mandy smiled down at the Texan who looked so darn sweet all snuggled up in her lap with a comforter up to his shoulder. Her heart went out to him today as he walked out of his therapy session, his eyes still red. After they got home, she grilled some salmon steaks with lemon pepper and they enjoyed a quiet meal of Coors, salmon, Caesar salad, and chocolate cake with whipped cream.

Nick looked down at the display of kitty bonding and said, "Would you two get a room?"

The kitties stared at him and then continued with the bonding.

He looked up at Mandy with such an endearing expression that she leaned over and kissed him. He looked peaceful and more content than he had since before they started dating.

"You look like a little boy when you sleep. Did you know that?" she asked, stroking the side of his face.

"Yeah." He turned his head back around and mumbled. "I feel like a 100 year old man right now."

"Well, old man, let's just turn this thing off and head on to bed," Mandy said gently as she flicked off the TV feeling weight lift off her knees as Nick rose to his feet and stretched out before holding his hand out to help her up.

"I'm pretty tucked out," he said. "So let's just hit the sack."

She drew him to her and planted a small kiss on his mouth. "Hey, you looked so tired after your session. I'm glad it helped, and I'm relieved to hear you say those words. I've been…we've all been telling you the same thing for months on end, but I guess you needed to finally say it to yourself."

Nick held her tightly. "I guess I'm pretty stubborn, much to my own demise, but it wasn't just the session. It was talking to Joanna's mother and hearing her tell me about learning to forgive, and this from someone who went through something far worse than I did."

Mandy pulled back and shook her head. "You can't compare crimes, Nick. Yours was every bit as horrific and only by the grace of God you're still here with us."

"I couldn't help but wonder if she was wishing that I was the dead one and her daughter was alive." Nick pressed his lips together. "I would have been fine with that."

"That's not how things work, Nick." Mandy grabbed his hands. "And I'm 100 per cent certain she never thought along those lines. She is just like you…trying to get through the day and then some. Okay?" She cupped his face in her hands and continued, "In all fairness, both you and Joanna should be alive. It should not be one or the other."

Nick gently grasped her hands and nodded. "You're right." Then he took her down the hall. "Let's call it a night, dandy Mandy."

_**A/N: George with the chipmunk in his mouth-I had to catch the office cat recently and do the same thing.**_

_**A/N2: I have to thank the Curate of my church. She gave a great sermon on forgiveness last week and gave me some ideas on how to approach the topic of forgiveness, particularly on the issue of forgiving yourself. I really felt that this where Nick needed to go on his healing.**_


	26. Chapter 26

**IRREVERSIBLE**

**CHAPTER 26**

_You're taking steps that make you feel dizzy_

_Then you learn to like the way it feels_

_Goodbye...And it's emotional  
Good night...I'll be up with the sun  
You're still holding on U2-GONE_

Nick stood in front of the doors waiting to be escorted into the prison, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets.

Behind him were Warrick, Greg, and Grissom, and as much as Nick didn't want an entourage with him he wasn't given much choice when he told them he wanted to come back and confront the ghosts of the past.

"_You're not going in there alone!" Warrick had told him._

"_Fine!" Nick sulked as he got into his new SUV Hybrid. He'd traded the Tahoe in._

"_I'd rather you not go there at all!" Mandy grumbled from the steps, wearing a seething look._

"_I'll be fine," Nick assured her._

"_Yeah right! You're not fine now, Nick," she retorted and started back into the house._

_Nick blew out a breath of exasperation and glanced at his buddies who shrugged. "Let me go back and just talk to her."_

_Slowly he ascended the steps and walked into the house where Mandy sat on the loveseat crying with Figaro in her arms. He sat down beside her and asked, "What did you mean by that?" He wanted to add 'and in front of my friends' but chose not to._

_She sniffled as she gently placed the old blind cat on the floor and looked at him. "The past few months…there's probably at least four nights a week where I'm waking up to your nightmares. And I'm not complaining, Nick. It's been better, but I don't think going back there is going to improve this."_

_Nick bit his bottom lip and nodded. "I know. I'm sorry about all the nightmares."_

"_No, I told you not to be sorry." Mandy wiped the tears from her eyes and cleared her throat. "Honestly, please don't be sorry. I just had an argument with my mom today. I'll tell you about it later."_

_Nick felt his heart jumping a bit, wondering what had happened and did it have anything to do with him?_

"_It's not you." Mandy read his thoughts clearly. "I'll be fine. I'm having lunch with Wendy today and then we're going shopping."_

"_Good!" Nick relieved to hear she wouldn't be by herself today. "I'm kind of wondering if you're developing cabin fever?"_

"_Yeah, I am," the lab tech admitted. "I miss the lab, the people… even Hodges."_

"_Hey!" Nick agreed. "I know all about it. Except, I don't miss Hodges." Then he leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. He took a good look at her, studying her dark hair, then running a hand through it._

_Mandy met his intense gaze, took his hand, and held it to her face. She held his stare for a long moment, emitting a deep connection, one formed from months of good times, bad times, medium times, and all kinds of times. _

_A little voice inside of Nick was telling him this one was a keeper, and although they'd been together a very, very, very short time, perhaps a certain question should be popped. But his more reasonable side cautioned him to wait at least until they returned from their trip._

"_Why are you looking at me like that?" Mandy asked, her eyes narrowed, as she studied his thoughtful reflection._

"_How am I looking at you?"_

"_Like you wanna ask a question." _

"_No, no, I just…" He shook his head. "I gotta go…the guys are waiting."_

"_Okay." Mandy smiled tenderly at him. "Be careful."_

"_I will." He stood up, smoothed down his coat, scratched Figaro's ear, and headed out._

_Warrick was leaning up against the SUV smiling. "You guys kiss and make out…I mean kiss and make up?"_

"_If you did, that didn't take long," Greg jested. "You could be a little more generous."_

"_Yeah! Yeah! Let's go." Nick ignored their hidden bantering and headed toward the car._

"_Grissom's gonna meet us there," Warrick told him._

Andrew Butler and Director Cowell walked out and escorted them hastily through the security checkpoint, first the metal detector and then the wand up and down their torsos, and then the CSIs were on their way.

The first thing Nick noticed was the number of CO's walking about. There was one on every corner. Twice the number he recalled on the picket line.

"As soon as I got in," Cowell told Nick as he mentioned this, "I lobbied for more guards. Luckily our law and order senator was right on our side. We've increased everything and enhanced the technology in here. Hell, a mouse can't go undetected in this place."

"Not to mention we got our raise and better benefits," Butler said happily.

"You guys deserve it!" Nick told him. "It's not an easy job."

"Someone's gotta do it." Cowell led them along the corridor while cameras and mirrors peered down from the ceilings.

Nick smiled at Chan, from Clark County holding, who walked by and said hello.

Nervously, he turned to Butler who walked beside them. Another guard brought up the rear. "Umm…"

"Nobody knows, Nick. Just me and Cowell and that's it," he assured him.

"We're on lockdown," Cowell said. "And you're not going in there alone."

"No, he ain't!"Warrick shot out. "If you're going to confront ghosts, Nick, you're doing it with us."

"What are we?"Greg joked. "Ghostbusters?"

Nick snorted and looked at them, amused. "Yeah! Ghostbusters. So does that mean I'm going to get slimed?"

"No, I'll probably get slimed," Greg groaned

"No, it would probably be me. I'm like my character on that crime show; the writers' bitch."

"Well," Grissom said, "the star of the show can't be."

"Oh, of course not," Nick answered flippantly.

Finally they reached the library. It was lit up inside and the shades were drawn. Nick studied it for a second, then turned around, staring at his entourage apprehensively. Each reflected how he felt; scared, nervous, and unsure if they themselves wanted to go in there, particularly Greg.

There was only one person who wore a stoic look.

"Listen, can I pick who comes in with me?"

He looked at Cowell who looked uneasy but then said, "As long as Butler comes in with you, that's fine."

Nick turned his gaze on his boss. "Grissom, do you mind?"

Warrick folded his arms and appeared to be okay with it, but his eyes said otherwise, while Greg's body seemed to ease a bit.

Grissom's eyes widened behind his glasses as he took full stock of Nick's request before answering, "No, I don't mind at all."

Nick then took a deep breath and looked at Butler. "Okay, I'm ready."

The guard swiped the card through the lock. The red light turned green as he pushed the doors open, turned on the light, and gestured for the two CSIs to come in.

With Butler leading the way, Nick entered first with Grissom behind him and heard the doors softly click behind them.

For a moment, nobody spoke as Nick slowly walked forward studying the counter for a moment, sliding his hand along it, and then a smell tingled in his nostrils. Leaning over, he took a whiff and looked at Grissom with a twitch.

"Pledge. The tables smelt like Pledge."

Grissom slid his hands into his pockets. "Small, benign objects…"

"Yeah, it doesn't take much does it?" Nick griped. Even passing by the product at the supermarket still made him uneasy.

The Texan studied the white, compressed wood of a counter for a moment and ran his hand along it. His eyes were lost in the memory as he spoke in a flat voice, "This is where they left my gun." Then his eyebrows knitted together as he asked. "I wonder how they got to the chapel."

"I know," Butler answered. Nick turned and looked at him. "There's a door over there." He pointed to the right side of the counter at the very end. "That's the office supply room for both the chapel and the library. It used to never be locked. Now it is though, and there are security cameras in there."

Ears ringing, Nick walked over to the photocopier and said in a tight voice, "When I realized what was on the rag they stuffed into my mouth, I threw up in a pail and hid it behind here."

Grissom walked over and looked behind the copier. "You had the presence of mind even after your attack to hide the evidence." He scanned around for a second before adding. "And not just here." The entomologist raised an eyebrow, causing uneasiness in Nick.

Butler read the body language and moved off out of ear shot, but keeping an eagle eye out for their safety.

"Yeah," Nick confirmed, "I did. I went home and showered. For days after I washed myself with everything in my house, even Mr. Clean. That burned."

"It's a household cleaner with skin irritating chemicals," Grissom told him. "But I bet after using it, you still felt..." The words escaped Grissom.

"I felt _them_ on me," Nick finished his boss's halted empathy, knowing Grissom was looking at him as a crime victim and not as a fellow CSI, thus earning the shift in dynamics. It was the only time Grissom could relate well to him, and he accepted it. As he finished his sentence, he stumbled along the next reflection of that horrid day. "It didn't matter how much I washed myself. I felt them on me for weeks."

"It only took the first shower to wash evidence away for an SAE kit," Grissom told him.

"Agreeing to one of those meant acknowledging there was an attack, Grissom," Nick retorted.

"There was blood on your clothes, and you never chose to seek medical attention for yourself," the older man continued with statements he'd held onto trying to gage what went on in the Texan's mind, even though he knew for a fact he may have reacted the same way.

Nick leaned into him, eyes brimming with tears. "Tell me something then; who could have I gone to? You?"

Grissom raised an eyebrow before answering. "I suppose at the time you felt there was no one you could report what happened to you to."

"No." Nick's jaw clenched. "There wasn't anyone I felt at _that _moment I could go to."

"So you washed the evidence off you and hoped it would be the end. But for some odd reason, Nick, you didn't get rid of your clothing?" Grissom asked, folding his arms thoughtfully. "I always wondered why. Was there a part of you hoping we'd find it?"

"I don't know." Nick's eyes grew dark. "Maybe I did or maybe I thought if I went through with my plan I could use it as evidence in an insanity plea. Truth is, Grissom, I don't know why."

Grissom studied the younger man before drawing a conclusion. "Shell shocked. You were working on autopilot those first few weeks. You stuck with what you know and the routine and it enabled you to continue forward."

"I guess my job was my saving grace, but I spent a lot of time planning…" he checked to see if Butler was out of earshot.

"I know." Grissom solemnly nodded as there was no need to go further. "The important element for you to remember is you never went through with it because you knew deep down you wouldn't be able to live with yourself, no matter how much you felt McVeigh deserved it. You have a strong moral compass, Nick, that remained so in spite of the chaos."

Nick cleared his throat to rid himself of the lump that was forming. The swell of emotions was becoming too much to bear. So he turned away from Grissom and took a deep breath, knowing his boss wasn't much for teary-eyed men.

Taking in the full scope of the crime scene, Nick's eyes settled on the table where they violated him.

"There's the crime scene." He gestured to the table and then slowly made his way toward it, his nostrils flaring at the benign object that aroused the deep-seated anger in him that remained and probably always would.

Nick observed the table with disdain and disgust before turning an angry glare at the corrections officer, wondering why in God's name did they not use this money given by the state to at least buy a new table. "This is the point of impact. I recognize the carving on the end…someone's initials." He looked at Grissom, his mouth tight. "They had the decency to dress me afterwards. That still blows my mind, you know?"

"It was Smith who dressed you…the remorseful one," Grissom told him.

"Yeah, if he was so remorseful, he wouldn't have attacked me in the first place." Nick felt the rage simmering again, like a pot of water on a low lit flame ready to spiral at any second. Then he laughed ironically and looked at Grissom. "I remember standing there with my hands on the table and hearing that stanza from _The_ _Hollow Men_…this is the way the world ends, and then the prickly pear one...my brain was just all over the place like I had ADHD or something."

Grissom thought about how sad it was that one of the greatest poems of all time would now be tainted for Nick - who was not known on the team for his literary repertoire.

"McVeigh threatened to kill me if I said anything," Nick told him. "And he was stalking me for a few weeks after and then he was gone." Glancing heavily at the table he asked, "Why is this table still here?"

A smile formed on Grissom's face as he told him. "They've been saving it." The bearded man motioned to Butler who went behind the counter and brought out an axe. "We thought you'd like to dispose of this item yourself."

Eyes wide, Nick watched as the corrections officer carried it over. "This was his idea." He pointed at Grissom.

The Texan turned and looked at Grissom quizzically who explained, "You've read Stephen King novels?"

"Of course. He's the master of horror." Nick answered.

"Do you recall a few years ago when he was hit by a minivan while he was out for a walk?"

"Yeah, I remember. The driver was talking to his dog or something."

Smirking, Grissom continued, "Well, after Stephen King recovered, he purchased the car off the owner and had it demolished. It was therapeutic for him. So when you asked us to come with you to the library, I had Catherine arrange with Cowell to have this table replaced and for you..." He motioned to Butler who handed the axe to Nick. "…to destroy it."

Nick gingerly took the axe, stared at it, and then looked at Grissom with a triumphant gleam in his brown eyes. "This is gonna be _very _therapeutic."

However, before he carried out this unique form of therapy, he had another look at his personal 'point of impact'. Gently laying the axe onto the table and kneeling down, he studied the legs and called Grissom over to join him.

Grissom could see the Texan's eyes growing dark and his jaw flex as he pointed to some jagged etches on the round legs. "Here are the scratch marks from the ropes they used to tie my legs. I had rope burns on my ankles for days." He ran a finger along them and continued to stare at them almost as they were a dead body.

"And burns on your arms," Grissom recalled. "And a bruise on the right side of your temple. You told me that you bumped your head."

Nick knelt down even further and ran his hand along the carpet. "The colour of this carpet is different."

"They replaced it after Catherine carved out some of it," Grissom said, feeling his neck and facial muscles tightening, hoping he didn't need to dredge up any further forensics details as to why the old carpet was taken from the prison by his colleague and her teammate.

Thankfully, Nick put an end to further clarification by saying, "I really tried to fight them, Grissom, but I was really sick and there were two of them. Guess I didn't stand much of a chance."

"The odds were not in your favour," the bearded man agreed. "You were outnumbered and overpowered."

Slowly, he stood back up with Grissom following suit. Nick explained, "They were dragging me along and I tripped, and for a second I thought I was going to get away, but it didn't happen like that. They were hell bound and determined to..." He exhaled deeply and finished, "…to do to me what they wanted to do."

Nick tightened his mouth and folded his arms, looking down. "You know, this sounds pretty bad, but I'm almost glad no one found me while it was happening." He waited for a shocked response.

"No, it doesn't," Grissom said to his surprise. "Given the nature of our profession, Nick, I think anyone in your situation would feel a similar emotion. It's unfortunate."

"Yeah, maybe fate or something like it allowed for my attack to be discovered in the manner it did to keep my…dignity intact," Nick reflected. "But I've been online with support groups for guys...like me...and well, they weren't as lucky as me to have people knowing exactly what I needed - my privacy and my self-respect."

Nick turned a grateful smile toward Grissom. "I know you played a role, Grissom. You all played a role and I really appreciate it."

"Catherine was instrumental as was Maddie Klein, but I'm glad I had a role in it and as cliché as it sounds, I hope one day you'll feel comfortable enough to work cases similar to yours, as I'm sure you'll afford them the same treatment," Grissom told him and then pointed to the axe. "Now it's time to slay the dragon."

Telling the CO they were ready, Butler handed Nick some orange safety goggles that he fished out of the supply room and Nick slid them on. Grissom stood off to the side to avoid being pierced with wood chips and splinters. Then everyone stood back as the Texan took one last look at the table and swung the axe. He was fairly good at using the tool as he'd cut logs at his daddy's ranch.

Down the axe came onto the table and the sound of wood splitting pierced the air. Nick grunted and took another swing, putting the axe right into the centre of the table.

It took about 30 minutes, and by the end all that was left of the table - the point of impact - was a sad looking pile of wood. Nick had chopped every inch of wood over and over until there was nothing left.

Sweat soaked Nick's face, back, and chest as he handed the axe over to Butler and looked at the two men with extreme gratitude and breathed, "Thank you for this." And he smiled. "You're right, Grissom, this was therapy. The best kind."

"I'm glad to hear it." Grissom smiled and then turned to ask Butler, "You want us to help clean up the mess?"

"Should have put a tarp under the table," Nick groaned. It would take hours and hours for these guys to clean up the mess.

"Naaaw...I'll take care of it. Actually, McVeigh's dad will be down here taking care of it," Butler told them with a smug grin.

Eyes wide, Nick laughed. "Good one!"

"I owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything man." Nick told him. "Nobody does."

As Butler got on his radio and called in some guards to get McVeigh ready for his 'job', Nick turned to Grissom, wiping sweat out of his eyes. Choosing his words carefully, Nick fumbled out, "Look, I know we've never...well...I mean, I know Warrick is your favourite CSI and Greg your second and Sara was...your...forensic muse, but what I'm saying is...I appreciate the support you gave me, Grissom."

The two men eyed each other warily for a moment. The unspoken tension of expectations unmet on either side hovered between them like a lost chickadee.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say Warrick and Greg are my favourites, Nick," Grissom finally explained. "If I had to consider you guys like my kids, you would be considered the problem child." Nick felt a small pang of pain at hearing this but held onto his knee jerk reaction, allowing the man to explain his theory. "Parents always favour the child who wants to be like them; the ones who make their lives easier and less challenging. Then there are the spirited children; the ones who are as far from being them as possible and make life more difficult. Warrick would be the prodigal son, so to speak, and you're the spirited one…the more difficult one. However, from what I've heard about the spirited ones, they tend to be the ones who shine the most as they come into their own."

Nick chewed on this thought and thought about how not so long ago he'd been the epitome of the lab playboy, a reputation he earned quite rightly.

When he joined the lab years earlier, he was a young cocky kid who was eager to show off his new found profession.

"Yeah, I guess I was a brat when I joined the lab," Nick chuckled.

"You were," Grissom agreed. "You had a sense of entitlement about you, and I had to knock that out of you because it was going to be your downfall. I always wanted my team to be more than who they were…Catherine more than a showgirl turned CSI; Warrick more than a gambler turned CSI; and you, Nick, are more than the judge's son."

These words were like music to Nick's ears, causing him to wonder if he should look at career opportunities in Texas, but probably not.

"Well, I've confront the ghosts," the Texan said finally, breaking the silence. "And that's it." He looked toward Butler who had respectfully stayed out of earshot.

As they filed out of the library, Warrick asked, "Get some anger management therapy while you were in there?"

"You could say that," Nick answered and then felt the need to explain his choice. "Look man, it wasn't personal."

"No, don't worry about it. Grissom was always the one with the right words to say at the right time." Warrick patted his shoulder heartily. "Let's go get a beer and celebrate your honeym…"

Nick laughed. "Yeah, you go on thinkin' that thought."

"Hey," Warrick said as the men made their way out of the prison, "about time you settled down and had some rug rats."

"Like I said, you just keep thinkin' those thoughts.."

"Long as you don't name any of them Hodges!" Greg quipped.

"Hell no, and I'll be sure to teach any of my kids to grow up never kissing anyone's ass to get anywhere." Nick quickly gauged Grissom's reaction and was relieved to see a smile.

"I think if anyone can teach a child to be resilient and committed to their profession without resorting to groveling, it's you, Nick," Grissom commented as prison officers handed them back their weapons.

Surprised and stunned, Nick said, "Two compliments from Gil Grissom. I'm on a roll!"

"I hear Wendy is working on Hodges in the groveling area," Greg added.

"Yes, so I've heard," Grissom said. "If anyone can do that, it will be Wendy."

"Whoa!" Warrick said as they opened the doors and headed out noticing dark clouds in the air. "I should have hooked up with a lady lab rat. Must be something in those chemicals they inhale all day."

"You're not getting mine," Nick told him. "She's a keeper!" And before anyone could respond, Nick jumped into the driver's seat leaving the wide-eyed stares of his colleagues behind.

xxXXxx

It was pouring rain when Nick pulled into the driveway. As he got out of his car, he pulled his jacket over his head to keep dry as he slid out of his vehicle and ran up the steps two at a time to get in. He grabbed the door handle and then noticed the note.

_Nick, Zack went missing. I'm out looking for him._

Grabbing his cell phone he was dismayed to realize he hadn't charged the damn thing.

"Shit!" He unlocked the door, raced into the house, and plugged in and called Mandy.

"Hello!" a panicked voice answered.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at Hanson's Park, just three blocks from here. I found him. He's under a maintenance crew trailer." Her voice hinged on fear and panic. "I've been trying to call you."

"Is he hurt?"

"No, just freaked. I was in the off leash zone when Paddy the stupid Irish Wolf Hound charged at him and he took off…stupid guy just laughed and went home. I was railing at him."

"Mandy! It's okay. I'm on my way. Just try to keep him where he is."

Hanging up the phone, Nick grabbed another leash off the hook by the door and dashed out the door and back into his car.

The rain was starting to clear as he got to Hanson's Park. As Nick pulled into the parking lot and parked the vehicle, he could see Mandy curled up and looking under the trailer.

Nick quickly ran over and called to her. He was quite surprised to see what a mess she was. She was coated head to toe in mud, dirt, and leaves.

Observing his astonished look, she wiped some hair out of her eyes. "I was crawling through a lot of foliage after him before he finally settled on this spot."

Nick ducked his head and got down to the task at hand. He knelt down and laid flat on the muddied ground, looking under the trailer with a flashlight, and saw a very dirty and very unhappy looking dog curled into ball, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

Nick whistled to the dog and called, "Hey bud!"

Immediately, Zack turned and saw Nick and his tail began to wag slowly.

"C'mon dude. Let's get out of here. You gave poor Mandy a heart attack," Nick said gently, then brought out his secret weapon - Pedigree dog cookies.

Sniffing the treat, Zack slowly began to scoot along on his belly toward Nick, inch by inch until the dog was close enough for the Texan to hook the leash into the clasp on his collar and Zack slid out from under the trailer licking Nick's face joyfully.

"I should be insulted, but I'm too relieved," Mandy said as she knelt down rubbed Zack's head. The dog turned to her and licked her face as if to say sorry. "I didn't bring his treats with me."

"They always work," Nick told her and helped her stand up. "It happened to me the second time I walked him. I guess he's always gonna be a bit of a scardey cat. Too many bad things happened before he came to live with me. Some stuff never leaves you no matter how hard you work to try to make it go away."

Mandy rubbed his arm and then noticed the rain had stopped. She looked down at herself, observing the caked on mud on her shirt and jeans, and groaned, "Oh man, I just bought this hoodie."

"Well, we've got Spray and Wash at home," Nick said. "And some laundry to do before the night is over."

"You're not mad at me for Zack?" Mandy asked.

"No, why would I be? I knew we'd find him."

xxXXxx

Nick hoisted Zack into the tub, set up the tap with a hose, and reached for the shampoo to wash the filthy animal. Mandy, meanwhile, went into the utility room where the washer and dryer were and began to pull off her clothes to scrub them.

Zack panted away as Nick poured the shampoo along his back and lathered up the animal real good. The suds turned muddy brown as the Texan scrubbed with a rubber brush shaped like a dog.

"You sure scared us tonight," Nick told him. "But I know how you feel, dude. There are just some bad memories that won't go away no matter how much you try." Rubbing the dog's head, he picked the hose up and began to rinse the animal down. As the dirty suds slid away, a clean, shiny dog emerged from them.

He hadn't heard Mandy pad into the washroom and was somewhat startled as he heard her say, "I'm just gonna grab a shower. Are you almost done?" Nick turned around and his eyes widened slightly as she stood there nonchalantly in the nude. She was still sort of shy about her body, no matter many times he told her he'd seen all there is to see, so why bother being shy? So this parade was big progress for her.

His gape was interrupted by a spray of water as Zack took matters into his own paws and shook the remnants of his bath off him. Sputtering, Nick dropped the hose and along with shaking dog water came hose water. He griped as he found himself drenched from the rivulets of water and grasped for the tap, turned it off, and wiped the water off his face.

Zack, meanwhile, jumped out of the tub and raced out of the bathroom looking for cover.

"Dammit!" Nick grabbed the towel he had placed beside the tub and ran after the dog while Mandy slipped into the shower stall.

After Zack was thoroughly dried, Nick walked into the utility room and dropped the towel into the small pile. There were just a few items to be checked off their list before they headed out in the morning. He looked down at himself and groaned at the sight of his drenched clothes. He pulled his shirt off and his jeans, boxers, and socks soon joined the pile.

Then with a glare he strolled back into the washroom where Mandy was still under the shower humming a merry tune. He opened the door and said, "You did that on purpose."

Eyes wide as the water poured down her back, Mandy turned her head and clandestinely asked, "Who me?"

"Yeah you." He stepped in and closed the door behind him. "What? Did you think I was gonna let you get away with it?" He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, feeling her sex against his, igniting him like fire to a stick.

"Guess I gotta make up for it, right?" she asked, her eyes filling with raw lust.

"Naww….you just gave me an excuse to join ya," Nick drawled, his hand clasping her breast, thumb rubbing a nipple which rose at his very touch.

"Oh, well I still want to make up for it," Mandy huskily told him.

Her hand reached down and massaged him, earning a longing groan from his lips as he told her, "If you insist."

Her mouth caught his, the drops from the spray dribbling onto their lips as Mandy continued with both hands, one working his sex while the other reached below and trailed the soft skin.

He cupped her face and deepened the kiss, their tongues entwining, the heat generating like molten lava.

"Can we…" Nick panted, his body protesting at having to break the kiss, "…in the bed?"

Tapped into his desire, Mandy nodded and switched off the shower.

They were barely dry by the time they reached the bed. Their damp bodies collapsed into a heap as Nick made love to her with an earnestness, wanting to chase the demons from his visit to the prison away one final time. Mandy wrapped her arms and legs around him and held on for dear life. Her head lolled from side to side before she leaned up and kissed him on his bottom lip, moaning his name over and over.

They climaxed in unison as he collapsed onto her, feeling her hands caressing his back as she murmured, "You never cease to amaze me."

Buried into her shoulder, he laughed, brought his head up, and studied her flushed face. "Yeah…you're a hell of a gal, Miss Webster."

Rolling off her, they maneuvered themselves under the covers, both agreeing it was pointless to get dressed. They'd be getting up again in no time and heading out with three animals in tow off to Texas.

"You excited?" Nick asked as she lay in the crook of his arm.

"Excited and nervous," Mandy answered, stroking his chest.

"Nervous about what?"

"Your family. What they will think of me?"

"Well, don't worry about that. I'm sure y'all get along," Nick assured her.

Mandy perched herself up and said, "I'll bet that southern accent of yours will come back in full throttle."

"Yeah, probably. I lost some of it when I moved here," Nick agreed.

"I love it."

"I'll be sure and pick it up again real quick."

"Can't wait," Mandy said and then her mouth tightened. "And then there's your mom's disapproval of you living with me. My mom's not happy about it either."

Ears perked, Nick looked at her. "You didn't tell me that."

"I didn't want you to freak out since you know we don't get along very well," Mandy explained.

Nick nodded understandably. Mandy had a rather strange relationship with her mom who was a fundamentalist Christian and had tried to force the faith onto her girl, only to have it backfire. Yet, Mandy still loved her parents so, especially her father - a professor with a more liberal view of issues. But since her mom was the matriarch, the rift between them also carried over into her relationship with daddy Webster.

Mandy had paused a bit and then went on, "She just gave me this adage of 'why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?'"

"Ahh...yeah…my mom said the same thing to me." Nick smiled crookedly as he reached over and stroked her face. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm not. I just don't like it when I fight with my mom because then she puts up a barrier between my dad and me." Her eyes welled with tears which she wiped away. "Anyway, you have enough on your plate, so don't worry about me."

"That's like asking George W. Bush not to worry about the bailout plan on Wall Street. Or McCain wondering what's gonna spill out of Palin's mouth at any second," Nick answered causing Mandy to smile.

"You're not gonna vote for that guy, are you?" Mandy asked in exasperation. Nick was forever the Republican, following Dad's foot steps to a T.

"I don't know who I'm going to vote for. I'll probably make my decision the night before," Nick told her and skirted back to the issue at hand.

But she got there before he did. "Just forget about it, okay?" Mandy told him.

"Well," Nick reflected. "If it makes you feel better, you could tell her that I can see this becoming permanent."

Mandy's eyes grew wide at the mere expression and Nick could see her gauging his facial expression to garner whether this was just another joke or was he serious before jokingly asking, "You wanna visit the Elvis chapel?"

"Well, not tonight," Nick answered. "And it wouldn't be the Elvis chapel, and I meant what I said, just not right away. Not tonight at least."

A slow, happy grin spread across her face as she answered, "Yeah, I could see it going in the same direction as you too." Then immediately the grin dropped. "Just not tonight, or tomorrow for that matter, or even next week."

"Course not," Nick yawned. "And it would definitely not be tonight because I'm exhausted."

Mandy snuggled into him and he could feel her smiling against him as she twirled her fingers around his chest. He felt relieved at the response as he wasn't sure what she would say. With the answer of the future solidified, Nick told her about his visit back to the prison - ground zero of his hellish year.

"Was it hard?" Mandy asked him delicately.

"What?" He studied her and then the question came into context. "Oh, visiting the prison?" He sighed heavily as his eyes became reflective. "To be honest, it was easier than I thought it would be." He told her about the table, and she let out a small sound of surprise and delight, adding that she never thought Grissom would know anything about Stephen King.

"But hell, he was right. When I chopped that damn table up into bits it was like every bit of rage went into that axe. I was a machine, and I kept going and going until you couldn't even make firewood out of that thing," Nick explained to her. "And after, I felt...nothing…and then I felt like I'd been through an exorcism."

Mandy smiled warmly and voiced a question that had nagged at her since the time they had started dating. "Nick, I really need to know something from you? Would you and I ever have gotten together if you hadn't asked me to do a private DNA analysis for you? I'd hate to think our relationship was founded in a..."

"I don't know, Mandy," Nick answered her honestly. "I think so. I do believe in fate and had it not been for the attack, I'm sure our paths would have crossed, just in a different way."

"Really?" Mandy asked. "I was just a lab rat to you."

"Yeah, you were. The cutest lab rat, unlike Hodges who is just a sewer rat pretending to be a lab rat," Nick griped and brightened at the thought that it would be another six weeks before he had to deal with the kiss-ass lab rat. Then he looked at Mandy who rolled her eyes at the ongoing conflict.

Taking a deep breath, Nick allowed the words he'd been saving up for this question, as knowing his fretful Mandy she would be asking this sooner or later. So he gave her the answer he'd been waiting to give her and she needed to hear. "I'll tell ya again, my dandy Mandy, you were my unwitting rock in those first few weeks. I was like a zombie. Working, coming home and hanging out with George, and getting up and doing it all over again. You were the first human contact I had afterwards. You were a safe person to be with. I knew my team would flip out and want to solve the case while I just wanted the whole attack to just go away and never come back. Being with you meant I could do just that. And yeah, there was conflict, but we overcame it."

Mandy listened aptly, her eyes welling up and her throat looking as if she were swallowing a lump. Nick chuckled and asked, "Does that alleviate any pressing concerns, darlin'? And when I came back to work after being in the trailer park, I was scared shitless to tell you why I freaked on you. I wondered what kind of reaction I'd get and I wasn't expecting that one…compassion. And then I touched your face and you looked at me like I was still King of the Hill…and not the TV show."

The lab tech laughed. "I like that show. Maybe we can move to Texas and you can work in a propane store." He snorted at the idea.

"So does that answer your questions Miss Mandy Dandy Webster?" Nick asked.

She wiped the tears away and nodded. "You bet, dude, and let me tell ya this. Let's consider tomorrow a fresh start for us. I know there will still be nightmares on your part, and I know every so often you'll have dark days, but let's consider tomorrow the first day of our life together, even without the formalities of government sanctioned relationships."

Nick beamed brightly. "I like that idea. Tomorrow is the first day for us."

"Especially for you!" Mandy said and kissed his fingers. "You've earned it."

Fatigue washed over them and they curled into each other in a peaceful slumber, oblivious to Zack jumping onto the end of the bed, flopping down and huffing a contented doggie sigh. His fur shined in the dim lamp lit room, and Figaro sniffed his way up in between them and planted himself in between their legs.

George, meanwhile, strolled saucily up and planted himself between Mandy's and Nick's sleeping heads on the pillows and rested his orange chin on the Texan's forehead, but not before giving it a couple of loving licks.

-finis-

_I cannot believe it's over. But it is! Do you know I started writing this story back in January of 2008 and then posted my first chapter in March. Now here are in October. I never intended to go this long. Twenty six chapters. Wow! That's a book._

_Writing this story has been a wonderful experience. I was lucky to have found a wonderful Beta in Smokey who gave me great ideas, nudges, feedback as well as enduring horrific grammar and editing mistakes. _

_Your reviews were totally awesome. I was not expecting them to be as detailed and positive as they were given the nature of this story. And as well reading through long ass chapters, so I promise my next one will have shorter ones._

_As I wrote before, this was a difficult topic to write about. I worried when I delved into the idea that some people were going to think this was sick voyeuristic fantasy I had and believe me it wasn't. I just read some other fan fics that were kind of strange and not to criticize fellow writers. I wanted to explore the topic in a way that allowed me to explore the mind of my favourite TV character and how he woud handle it. It would never happen on the show, ever. I think the actor would high tale it if asked. No matter how much money offered him._

_In terms of character creation, some of my original characters were easy to develop and others I really had to think through. I really worked with Eponine to ensure she was not a Mary Sue-the only common factor I share with her is our single parent status. Primarily,_ _Eponine was a composite of a couple of friends I know and simply formed her into one character._

_If anything, my voice in the story probably shone through Mrs. Matthews the crazy cat lady. I liked the idea a female tormenting Nick in a nonsexual way, a woman who wasn't in awe of his good looks and charm and to knock him off his pedestal every so often._

_As for shipping this with Mandy, believe or not I had planned on this being more of a Nick/Sophia romance. But I really, really struggled to write her and when I wrote the first date Nick had with Mandy it felt more natural for me, so I went with it._

_Aww George….the kleptokitty. I felt so bad for Nick in the first few chapters, I wanted to add a bit of comfort to him, but I didn't think he was ready for a human comfort, so I was reading a story to my daughter one night called "Mr. McGratt and His Ornery Cat" about a guy who lives a lone and has this cat hanging around him and the cat scares off pesky neighbours. Thus, the story of George. _

_Now the kleptomaniac part is based on a true story about this cat in England who used to sneak out of its owners house and steal clothes and toys out of the neighbours' back yards. So while I was writing this story, I thought about the irony of a crime fighter with a thieving cat. _

_Furthermore, I was going to have Nick call the cat, "Cat" but I was worried about confusing the readers with Catherine, so I just decided to name the cat George which gave me the opportunity to crack jokes about George Eads and CSI. I had a lot of fun writing this cat. I think my favourite part was the first time Nick and Mandy made love and he sat on the bed and watched. Not to mention the afterlife._

_And I chose an orange tabby because most cat lovers know orange tabbies are personality plus. I have one myself._

_I added in Zack after I watched an episode of the 'Dog Whisperer' where the trainer, Ceaser Milan, worked with a guy who adopted a dog who was terrified of everything to the point where he could barely leave the house He spent time at Milan's Dog Psychology Centre to 'learn how to be a dog'. _

_Now in terms of him being an 'ugly dog'. Again I decided to take an ironic twist on this-good looking guy with an ugly dog. _

_So then Nick had a thieving cat and an ugly dog. Then a really old cat._

_Figaro is a real cat I took care of. I thought it would nice to see Nick with an older animal knowing he would be very gentle with one. _

_Finally._

_The premier has certainly endowed me with ideas. I am struggling on with CSI fan fic given there were three characters we lost. Even in this story, I felt Sara needed to be back in some form._

_Warrick's death is going to make it hard for me, but I've got one in the works and will try and take a page from the show._

_Thanks guys. You rock!_


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